Wicked
by AnythingBut
Summary: Harry has never thought of Draco as a victim, but when his enemy turns up injured at the Dursleys, he has to reconsider. AU, N/C, Violence, Slash. Rated M for mature sexual contents. Please R&R!
1. Surprise

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter and am not making any profit with this.

_Author´s note_: The story is set after the events of GoF. Please note that this is AU.

The story is furthermore not suitable for underage readers; there will be mention of non-consensual

sex, abuse and graphic scenes later on in the story, for mature readers only!

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Enjoy!

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**-o-**

**Chapter 1: Surprise**

**-o-O-o-**

Draco looked shaken. This was the first thought that crossed Harry´s mind even before he wondered what Malfoy was doing at his doorstep.

He was crouching on the threshold of Privet Drive Nr. 4, his hair a mess, his skin paler than Harry remembered. The blond was hugging himself and did not look up as Harry approached.

"Malfoy," he said, reaching for his wand, immediately feeling anger surging through him at the notion of Draco having the nerve to come here; it quickly faded when he got a closer look, though.

Bruises were forming around Draco´s left eye and on his temple, and Harry now noticed that his clothes were torn in places, and that his arch-enemy was trembling violently.

Harry quickly knelt down in front of him, a surge of cold rushing through him as Draco´s eyes finally met his: he looked devastated, his gaze was unsteady and empty.

"Draco," Harry whispered, reaching out to touch the other. "What happened?"

Draco flinched when he felt Harry´s hand, but at least he seemed to come out of his trance-like state; "P-Potter," he mumbled, his voice unusual small. "Have to h-hide... didn´t know w-where t-to go..."

"Shshshsh...," Harry tried to calm him: "It´s okay. We should go inside now, then you can explain..."

Draco flinched again when Harry made to help him up; his hands were cold, and he seemed unable to grip Harry´s firmly enough to pull himself to his feet. Harry looked down on them to find that they were not only cold, but bloodied as well. "Are your hands hurt?" he asked, appalled. Draco managed to shake his head no. That was no reason for relief, though, since the blood had to come from other injuries then.

Frowning, Harry reinforced his hold and somehow managed to get Draco into a standing position. Then he gasped: a puddle of blood had formed where the blond had just sat. Harry´s insides squirmed. He did not have time to do anything about that now though, as Draco was meanwhile shaking and leaned heavily on Harry. His eyelids fluttered while he tried to stay conscious, but his knees sagged.

Harry opened the door and more carried than pulled him inside and directly up the stairs, using whatever momentum they had. Panting, he did his best not to think about the trail of blood they were leaving behind, or what Aunt Petunia would do if she found out.

Just as Harry opened the door to his bedroom, Draco went limp. It was all Harry could do to catch him and drag him over to his bed. He cautiously lowered him onto it; Malfoy certainly wasn´t his favourite person in the world, but this was scary.

Images of Cedric flashed past Harry´s mind, and he blinked in an attempt to get rid of them. He did not know what to do: here was Draco Malfoy, lying unconscious on Harry´s bed, bleeding from an injury or maybe even several injuries, and looking as if he had just been to hell and back.

-

Harry´s thoughts were racing- what was he supposed to do? He did not have any medical knowledge, and he did not know how to stop wounds from bleeding. Reeling, he gripped his head: he was on his own, there was no one else. He had to stop the bleeding, that was the first thing in his mind. He had completely forgotten about the blood, had forgotten about anything else beside the immediate situation.

He crouched down on the edge of the bed: first of all, he would have to find out where the blood was coming from at all.

He had just peeled back Draco´s torn robes from his midsection when the doorbell rang. Harry froze. It rang again, more insistently this time.

Cursing again, Harry grabbed his wand, jumped to his feet and ran down the stairs- his aunt and uncle were going to kill him once they would be back from their shopping trip and would find about this. What if it was a neighbour who had spotted the blood, or worse, had seen Malfoy?

-

When Harry yanked the front door open, however, hiding his wand behind his back, it was old Mrs Figg: "Harry," she squealed, "are you all right?" Harry gaped at her, not knowing what to make of this.

"Do not simply stand there, boy," Mrs Figg now urged, "I know that something has happened, and this puddle of blood surely proves it!" Harry, desperate to find an excuse, opened his mouth to speak but the old lady forestalled him: "Do you have your wand?" "My-" Harry weakly raised his arm, as he was indeed still clutching his wand. "Good, " she murmured with an air of impatience.

"There is no time for explanations now," she said when she noticed Harry´s crestfallen expression, "you better tell me what has happened, and I´d really like to know where that Mundungus Fletcher is! He should be here by now!"

"Mun-" "It is his watch, and if he had any sense he would have known- luckily I had Mr Tibbles on duty, he informed me that something was not right." She ushered Harry inside, where her eyes instantly found the trail of blood. With an ominous look, she started to climb up the stairs: "Have you lost your voice, Harry?" she panted. Harry was following her: "No, I ... how- are you a witch?" he asked, still perplexed.

"I´m a Squib, that´s why I´m afraid I´m of not much help", Mrs Figg panted. "But we´ll have time for questions later, dear," she replied as she entered his bedroom. Draco was lying exactly as before, still unconscious. Mrs Figg shuffled over to the bed and bent over him: "Oh my, oh my," she murmured. "We need to get help- Harry, dear, be so good as to go outside. Mundungus Fletcher should appear any minute now, and you´d do good to get him in here as soon as possible."

Harry had barely opened the front door once more when he heard a noise that sounded exactly like CRACK, then a short, shabby looking man appeared on the threshold. He seemed to sway a bit and looked like he was drinking frequently: "Ah, Potter," he said as if they had known each other for years, "where´s Figgy?"

Harry would have grinned at this had the situation not been so serious. "Upstairs," he said and was about to step aside when a thought occured to him: "Mr... Mr Fletcher, could you please- my aunt, see-" he pointed to the puddle of blood.

"Sure can," Fletcher said jovially, and with a swish of his wand, the red liquid vanished. Then he turned to enter the house. Harry could smell alcohol on him and wrinkled his nose as he followed him upstairs, hoping that none of the neighbours had seen him Apparating. Harry noticed that Fletcher was carrying a bundle of cloth which strongly reminded Harry of his own Invisibility Cloak. Had he been watched?

-

The question was being driven out of his mind as soon as they had reached his bedroom: Mrs Figg immediately started yelling at Fletcher, accusing him of forsaking his duties, before she instructed him to get help; he immediately Disapparated at her orders. Mrs Figg huffed: "Insufferable man, hadn´t noticed a thing! And he was supposed to keep an eye on you!"

Harry would have liked to ask her why she had never told him that she was Squib, but was distracted by a small moan from the bed. He turned around; Draco had started to move, slowly wrapping his arms around himself again. He was shivering; with Mrs Figg´s help did Harry remove the blanket from underneath him and covered him with it in order to keep him warm. Draco´s eyes opened and he looked at Harry with heavy-lidded eyes: "Please... stay..." he murmured before drifting into unconsciousness once more.

Harry looked up at Mrs Figg, who shrugged: "Poor thing," she murmured. Harry did not know how to respond to this- Draco Malfoy usually was far from needing to be pitied, but then of course Mrs Figg couldn´t know that he was the son of a Deatheater.

-

Harry jumped when another CRACK accompanied the arrival of three persons, making his room seem even smaller than it was: Harry found himself face to face with Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, who rushed over to the bed at once.

Harry stared- the situation must be worse than he thought if the headmaster himself felt compelled to appear here.

The bright eyes looked serious now as Dumbledore assessed the situation. "This is quite a predicament you found yourself in, Harry" he said by way of a greeting. "And the same holds true for Mr. Malfoy, it seems."

"Are you all right, Harry?" Lupin asked quietly when Dumbledore turned to Mrs Figg. Harry nodded, confusion evident in his features: "I don´t know what happened to him," he said. "He was in a terrible mess when I found him and said he had to hide and didn´t know where else to go."

Both of them looked over to the bed, but could only see Madam Pomfrey´s back.

Nodding, Lupin smiled at Harry: "Good to see you, nevertheless."

-

Right then, the front door could be heard downstairs, followed by the sounds of people coming in. A second later, Aunt Petunia´s voice shrieked: "What has that boy done now? There is blood all over my carpet! HARRY!"

Alarmed, Harry looked at the others. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at this display of worry rather for the carpet than for Harry : "I will go and have a word with her. Remus?" Lupin nodded and made to accompany him.

-

Mrs Figg crumpled her nose: "Harry, dear, I am so sorry that you have to endure these horrible people", she squealed. "I could of course never tell you anything over the years, and that´s why I couldn´t make your stays at my place nice for you- they might have gotten suspicious!"

Harry nodded, still being confused. Mrs Figg shook her head: "I´ll go home now. Dumbledore will tell you all you need to know." "O-okay..." Harry watched her leave, then turned to Madam Pomfrey: "How is he?" "Can´t tell yet," she said. She had magically removed Malfoy´s robes and had discovered that he had worn nothing underneath. He was naked now apart from a folded cloth which Madam Pomfrey had used to cover his privates.

She had used a levitational charm so he hovered a few inches above the mattress; his body looked like it had been used as a crash test dummy, he was covered in bruises, some of them new, some of them apparently older already. His wrists and ankles were chafed and bloody, heavily scabbed in places. Harry swallowed, for it looked like he had been shackled. There were other marks around his neck as well, and he didn´t even want to know where they came from, but it seemed that someone had strangled him.

Malfoy opened his eyes when Madam Pomfrey touched his head, moaning quietly and recoiling from her touch. Harry knelt down next to his head, thinking that he might at least give it a try: "Shshshsh, calm down, Draco," he soothed. "You are safe here. Madam Pomfrey is checking on you. You know her from Hogwarts?"

Malfoy calmed down at this. Madam Pomfrey gave Harry an approving look and continued to examine Draco. She eventually lowered her wand: "I must ask you to leave the room now so I can properly assess my patient."

At this, Draco started to struggle, weak as we was: "No... please... H-harry stay..."

Harry scooted closer to him, tentatively lying his hand on the other´s shoulder. Madam Pomfrey looked from Draco to him and sighed: "Very well then. At least it seems to calm him."

She moved further down and pushed the cloth up a bit, then she carefully lifted Draco´s legs up and spread them. He whimpered when she began examining his nether regions. Harry looked away, for this seemed too awkward.

"Hush, dear, it will be over soon," Madam Pomfrey said absent-mindedly while she used the levitational spell to lift Draco´s hips up a bit more.

Draco writhed, breathing heavily; Harry found himself stroking over the other boy´s hair. This situation was far from real, thus it did not matter wether this was the least person he´d ever imagined to be treating like this.

-

Harry could hear Uncle Vernon yell downstairs, but it seemed that he was being cut off, for it suddenly became quiet again.

Harry sighed, returning his attention to Madam Pomfrey, who was gently lowering Draco´s legs down again: "I am going to turn you on your stomach, love," she said. Did Harry hear her voice shaking? He wasn´t sure, but she sounded strangely upset.

Draco gave another strangled whimper but quieted as he came to rest on his stomach. Harry gulped: the blond´s back was covered in bruises as well, but in addition to that, there were bloodied red welts all over his pale skin.

Madam Pomfrey had run her wand over his back once when Draco started to breathe heavily; at first, Harry thought he was panicking for some reason, but then the blond croaked: "...sick..."

Harry jumped to his feet and looked around for something to use. Madam Pomfrey, used to incidents like these, calmly summoned a small jar from her bag and magically enlargened it. No sooner had Harry held it underneath Draco´s chin as he started to retch. Harry held the basin for him and supported his forehead with his other hand. Draco´s body was heaving violently, but only a small amount of vomit came out, consisting largely of what looked like water.

-

Once the bout was over, Draco sagged. Harry put the basin aside.

"Now, now..." Madam Pomfrey handed Harry a piece of cloth, then she talked to Draco once more, her voice being unusually soft as she addressed him: "I´ll turn you back over in a minute. Take deep breaths in the meantime, that´s a good boy."

Harry awkwardly used the cloth to wipe over Draco´s mouth and chin; the blond was shaking badly and did not protest.

Madam Pomfrey administered layers of various ointments onto his back and other body parts. After covering them with soft pads, she turned him around, ending the levitational spell and cautiously easing him onto the mattress. She conjured up a soft cushion and placed it underneath his hips before repeating her treatment and spelling a nightshirt on his body.

She used a cleaning charm on the bed, then covered Draco up with the blanket: "Do you happen to have another one, dear?" she asked Harry, who had watched all this with growing concern.

"Er- no," he said, startled. Madam Pomfrey nodded somewhat grimly and produced a second blanket from her bag, which she spread over the first one: "Need to keep him warm," she mumbled.

From her enormous bag she produced several vials with healing draughts which she made Draco swallow; after the last one, his eyes drifted shut again, and his breathing evened out as he fell asleep.

Harry looked from Draco´s ashen face to Madam Pomfrey, but she wouldn´t meet his gaze; she had set her jaw firmly as she was clearing up her belongings.

-

Soon afterwards, Dumbledore came back in. His gaze lingered on Draco for a moment before he turned to the Healer: "Well, Poppy?" he asked in a grave voice.

Madam Pomfrey straightened her shoulders: "Maybe Mr. Potter should not hear this, Albus," she said, her voice quavering for sure this time.

To Harry´s surprise, a sad if ever so faint smile crossed the old headmaster´s face: "I am afraid he must, Poppy," he replied softly. "He needs to understand what is happening, especially after his own experiences."

Poppy looked at him hesitantly before she sighed: "Well, then... it seems Mr. Malfoy has been tortured over a period of at least a week." Harry did not notice that he was gasping; at least a week? But Madam Pomfrey continued, her eyes fixed on a point on the wall as if what she had to say would not come out once she started to realize what she was saying.

"He has been under the Cruciatus Curse several times, judging from the state he is in, and his body shows signs of beatings and mistreatment, along with malnourishment and dehydration. There are abrasions and bruises on his ankles, wrists and hips, caused by iron. Apart from that, he´s... it... he seems to have been r-raped, repeatedly and obviously with brutal force."

She fell silent, looking as pale and shaken as Harry felt, and as Dumbledore looked as well.

-

Neither of them spoke for a while.

The headmaster was the first to recover his composure: "We have to make sure that he is safe." His voice sounded unusually old and tired. He turned to Harry: "I know it is much to ask of you, but I´d wish that he stays here. We cannot take him with us." "But, Albus-" Madam Pomfrey interrupted, "if he was transferred to Grim- to our headquarters, I´d be able to take proper care of him."

"Poppy," Dumbledore sounded sad, as if his next words grieved him greatly, "despite what has happened to him is he still the son of Lucius Malfoy. We cannot risk bringing him to our headquarters, he would see and hear too much."

The following silence was louder than anything Harry had ever heard. He did not know which "headquarters" they were talking about, but Dumbledore had a point, even if it seemed ridiculous considering the state Draco was in.

"As long as he is here, we can keep watch on both of him and Harry, which we would have done anyway." Dumbledore continued. He addressed Harry once more: "I am sorry to impose this on you. I know that you and Malfoy cannot be considered being on friendly terms, and I am aware that you have... issues with his father."

His eyes twinkled at this. "I do however suspect that young Draco here has suffered at the hands of the Deatheaters, and as long as we cannot be sure about his father´s involvement, I´d deem it safest to keep him hidden with you. I do not expect Lucius Malfoy to look for his son in the house of Harry Potter´s muggle relatives."

He caught the doubtful look on Harry´s face and immediately understood that it rather concerned the Dursleys than his last words.

"I have talked to them," Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling even more. "They will not interfere, and I have even managed to have Petunia agree to be of assistance if need be."

Harry stared at him in utter disbelief. His aunt, helping him? She had only ever done so very grudgingly, even when he had been ill as a small boy. He could not help but wonder how his life before Hogwarts would have been if Dumbledore had intervened a little more often...

-

He was being distracted from his thoughts by Remus entering the bedroom, looking positively gleeful, something Harry had never witnessed in him before. "They will not give you any trouble, Harry," he said, and Harry got the impression that Lupin was subduing the urge to rub his hands.

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "We will keep an eye out on you all the time. If something is wrong, all you need to do is go outside and send some sparks up with your wand." "Isn´t it against the law if I use magic?" "I will answer for you if necessary," the headmaster answered quietly. "Now, I believe some changes are in order." He raised his wand and magically enlarged the bed, making it wide enough to fit two people in it. Then he turned to the window and waved his wand at it silently. Harry did not see anything happen, but he supposed it was a precaution. "This way, no one will be able to look in," Dumbledore explained.

After Madam Pomfrey, who would be checking on Draco in regular intervals, had handed Harry a box of medical supplies and potions, along with detailed instructions what to do, they Disapparated.

-

The Healer´s last words were still ringing in his ears when he sat down on the bed: "Mr. Malfoy has been through a terrible ordeal, my dear. He will need a lot of comfort, but don´t ask him what has happened. If he decides to tell you, he will do so in time."

Harry looked down on his arch-enemy: even in the sleep which had been forced upon him to give his body the rest it so badly needed did Draco look tense.

The dark-haired boy sighed; it looked like this was going to be long summer.

--

**To Be Continued**

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	2. Fragile

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

And now: on with the story!

**-o-**

**Chapter 2: Fragile**

**-o-O-o-**

-

Harry sat on the bed for a while, pondering what had just happened; there were still a lot of questions reeling in his mind, but he knew he would not get them answered too soon, therefore he could as well concentrate on other things. Such as, facing the Dursleys.

He slowly went downstairs, listening intently but not hearing them. He found them in the kitchen, where they were sitting around the table. Dudley was stuffing himself with cookies, while Petunia and Vernon looked simply dumbfounded.

At the sight of Harry, however, Petunia´s face went white and then red in a quick succession. She did not say anything, just glared at Harry with a murderous expression he had never before seen on her. He would have loved to know what exactly Dumbledore and Remus had said to her.

It was Vernon who finally opened his mouth: "I am warning you, boy," he growled, his face growing redder than ever, "I will not tolerate any funny business with that little friend of yours."

Harry counted till five before he answered: "He is not my friend, Uncle Vernon." At this, Petunia huffed.

Harry was tired, and he was worried. The last thing he needed was the Dursleys pretending he enjoyed this. "He is the son of Voldemort´s most faithful servant, and he has nearly been killed." Harry therefore said before he could help himself, feeling a tingle of satisfaction at Petunia´s visible wince when he mentioned the name. "Surely you don´t think I want him here."

With that, he turned around and left the room. He knew that had been cheap, but he usually had so little to oppose them that he didn´t care.

-

Draco awoke in the early evening. Harry was sitting at his desk and staring out into the evening. The sky was still light, but the gloom of dusk was already settling in.

A soft moan from the bed alerted the dark-haired boy. Draco´s eyes opened slowly, he blinked several times. Harry got up from his chair; Draco flinched when he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, and remained in a tense posture until Harry had sat down next to him: "It´s me, Harry."

Draco slowly exhaled. His eyes were glazed over, and his cheeks looked flushed; Madam Pomfrey had warned Harry that he might develop a fever, since his body was severely worn-out and had to deal with the medication in addition to the wounds. Harry reached for the glass of water he had put on the nightstand and helped Draco lift his head to drink. They spilled some of it, but Draco drank most of the glass.

Harry lowered his head down onto the pillow again: "My aunt is going to make some soup," he said. "Madam Pomfrey said you´d need a lot of liquid inside you."

Draco did not respond to this, he only closed his eyes again. Harry had never seen him so defeated; this was hardly the Draco Malfoy he usually loathed.

When Aunt Petunia reluctantly brought up a tray with a mug of broth and some toast a while later, Draco had dozed off again. Petunia looked at Malfoy with an expression of pure disgust, and ungently set the tray down on Harry´s desk before leaving wordlessly.

Funny, Harry thought idly as he watched her retreating back, that she would share this feeling of his now that he was actually experiencing mostly sympathy for his enemy.

He was reluctant to wake Draco, but given the state his body was in, the food would do him good.

-

It was much harder to coax Malfoy to swallow the broth than Harry would have expected; the blond turned his head away, for his stomach was delicate after days without proper nourishment, and he felt nauseous.

Harry patiently tried again: "Come on," he said, "you will feel even worse with an empty stomach." He would have expected Draco to give one of his trademark snotty retorts, but he didn´t even so much as smirk. He simply looked helpless.

Harry eventually resorted to sitting on the bed and propping Draco up against his chest. He was afraid that he might hurt him or put too much strain on him, but the other boy seemed comfortable enough, and in this position drinking was easier. Being made to drink as well, thus Harry finally succeeded.

It had gotten dark by the time the mug was empty. Harry set it aside and decided to hold off on lowering Draco back down a little, since he did not want to risk the other boy to vomit again.

If Draco wondered why they were staying like this, he did not let it on. He just lay against Harry, eventually closing his eyes again; he felt so tired, and the only thing he wanted was to rest.

-

Harry could tell that Draco had fallen asleep again when his head lolled sideways. Gently, he eased the blond down on the pillow again, and tucked the blankets around him before he got up and returned to his desk.

Hedwig, his snowy owl, normally went off to hunt at dusk; as she had been disturbed out of her slumber by the events of the day, she only made ready to leave now. She stretched each leg of hers delicately, partly unfolding her wings, then she left her cage and hopped onto Harry´s desk.

He smiled, stroking her head with one finger before reaching behind her and opening the window: "Have a good night," he said fondly. "Be careful." Hedwig blinked her huge eyes at him reassuringly and clicked her beak once, then she soared off into the darkness.

As Harry felt tired to the bone, he went to bed soon, only to realize that he did not have a blanket. Sighing, he got up again and rummaged through his trunk until he had found his Hogwarts cloak; it would do, since the night was warm anyway.

He took off his glasses and laid down. If someone had told him he would be sharing his bed with Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed at them, yet here he was, lying in the dark and listening to the blond boy´s quiet breathing.

-

At one point, he must have drifted off to sleep, since he jerked out of it in the middle of the night when he heard strange sounds. It took Harry a few seconds before he remembered what had happened, and only then did he realize where the sounds were coming from.

In the dim light the street lamp cast in his room, he could see Draco moving about; he was whimpering and pleading with someone. His words were unintelligible, but their tone told Harry all he had to know. He quickly turned on the little bedside lamp and put a hand on Draco´s shoulder to stop him from writhing. Draco shied away from him until Harry started to speak with him: "Draco, it´s me Harry. It´s only a bad dream, you need to wake up... "

The other boy was shaking badly again, and it took Harry several minutes to get through to him. He woke with a start, then winced and contorted his face in pain, never taking his eyes off Harry, though, as if he was not sure wether he was dangerous or not. "Draco," Harry repeated. "Calm down, it´s okay... you´re safe here..."

Gradually, Draco sagged; not because he relaxed but because his energy was spent. Harry could not but feel pity; Malfoy was still shaking, and his eyes were wide with fear.

"It´s okay," before Harry knew what he was doing did he reach out and take the blond boy´s hand in his, "I´m here with you. I won´t let them hurt you again." He sounded far more reckless than he felt, but he supposed that he had to make Draco feel safe or else he would not get any rest. Draco gave another strangled whimper and held on to Harry´s hand as if he was clinging to dear life.

This was how they both fell asleep again.

-

When Harry woke up in the following morning, the first thing he noticed was the warm body next to his own. For a blissful moment, he was unaware of life´s circumstances; all he knew was that he felt comfortable. This changed when he opened his eyes: he found himself lying on his side, with Draco huddling against him in his sleep. The blond was still lying on his back, and his face was turned away, but he had subconsciously sought Harry´s warmth. Harry´s hand had slipped out of Draco´s grip, thus his arm was lying on the blond´s hips. Harry cautiously removed it, since he didn´t want to put the weight on Draco´s injured body. He sat up: golden morning light was filling the room, promising a wonderful day.

Draco stirred when he felt Harry move away, opening his eyes slowly. Harry saw that they were still glazed, but he seemed to recognize Harry, as he stayed calm.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked.

"Still tired," Draco murmured. Harry nodded, trying not to let on his worry as Draco was obviously ill: "I´ll go and get some breakfast. You can go back to sleep after you´ve eaten something, and I have to give you some potions." He didn´t get a reply. Sighing inwardly, he took the tray and went downstairs.

This time, Draco did not turn his head away as Harry forced him to eat a bit of toast and drink some tea. He was leaning against the Gryffindor again, as Harry did not want to take any risks involving spilling the hot tea.

-

After the breakfast, Harry uncorked two vials and asked Draco to swallow the potions they contained, which he did without objecting. His absolute compliance only increased Harry´s worries; the Draco Malfoy he knew would have demanded to know what exactly the potions were made of and would have accused him of attempted murder even before trying so much as sniffing at them.

The Draco Malfoy who was currently leaning against him, however, scared Harry.

Madam Pomfrey would be looking in on him later in the day and tend to his wounds; Harry only had to make sure Draco took his medication and stayed in bed. The Healer had cast a spell on Draco which obviated the need to use the bathroom, so that Harry did not have to bother with that. He was really glad about it, since he didn´t fancy handling a bedpan, and he guessed Draco would be either.

He suspected that the main reason for it were Malfoy´s injuries, though, which were not allowing any strain during healing.

-

Harry had just cleared away the dishes and gotten a jug of fresh water, all under the seething looks of his aunt, when Madam Pomfrey Apparated in his bedroom, much earlier than expected.

"Good morning, dear," she said to Harry, peering over his shoulder over to the bed. "I´ve been up early, so I thought I might as well stop by already. How is Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry stepped aside to grant her a full view: "He´s running a fever, and he had nightmares," he said quietly. "But he has eaten something."

"Good, good," Madam Pomfrey approached the bed; Draco had turned on his side and lay curled up, his hair obscuring his eyes.

"Hello, dear," the Healer said and bent over him. Harry couldn´t see her face, but her voice sounded very caring. "How are you feeling today?"

Again, Harry automatically anticipated a condescending remark, but instead he heard Malfoy whispering: "Only... tired..."

Harry could see Madam Pomfrey squaring her shoulders at this, then she gently asked Draco to turn on his stomach so that she could see to his wounds. As he did so, she removed his nightshirt and the pads and assessed the injuries before applying more ointment; Harry noticed that she was biting her lip all the time, as if all this was aggrieving her tremendously.

-

She applied new pads, then helped Draco to turn back on his back by using the levitational spell again, and covered him with the sheet. After she had tended to his upper body, she moved on to his abdomen; she did not ask Harry to leave the room this time, and Draco only lay there impassively, his eyes closed, as she cautiously lifted and spread his legs.

He whimpered a few times; Harry, who had turned away, found it too hard to bear. He did not care if this was the boy he had come to hate with a passion as long as he sounded this hurt and afraid.

He quickly approached the bed and sat down next to Draco´s upper body, facing him and careful not to be in the Healer´s way. He found the other boy´s hands and held them in his own; when Draco opened his eyes at this, Harry held his gaze: "It´ll be okay," he soothed. "It´ll be over soon..."

-

When Madam Pomfrey finally lowered Draco´s legs down again, she made sure his hips rested on the cushion she had placed underneath them the day before: "Please be careful not to slip off it, dear," she said. "You´re only just starting to mend, after all."

Draco nodded feebly. The Healer tucked him back in; Harry gently squeezed Draco´s hands before letting go, then he got to his feet to make way for her. She administered her patient one additional potion which was supposed to help against the fever: "You will feel better soon," she murmured reassuringly.

Draco was thoroughly worn-out. He did not mind being given all those potions, even though they made him dizzy, as long as they kept his thoughts at bay. He did not want to think, did not want to remember the past few days- all he wanted was to sleep and forget. His old life seemed to have faded to grey, had become insignificant all of a sudden.

People he thought he could trust suddenly had turned against him, whereas the one person he had learned to fervently hate during the past years had suddenly become his only hope of survival. He had defeated the Dark Lord once, after all, and he was brave, unlike himself.

Draco closed his eyes exhaustedly, trying to get his mind blank: maybe it would have been better if he had died.

He would have curled in on himself to take up as little space in the world as possible , but his body ached too much, and he did not have the strength. He did not really care, though; he was beyond hurting, beyond feeling pity for himself or being humiliated. He just wished it would end.

Maybe he should simply have crawled under a bush and kept Potter out of this.

-

Harry however still heard the echo of Draco´s pained whimpers. No one deserved something like this, he thought while he was changing the water in Hedwig´s cage; she had just come back, and he had realized that he had forgotten about it. Draco had fallen asleep again even before Madam Pomfrey had left. They had had a quiet conversation, then the Healer Disapparated, and Harry had seen Hedwig arrive.

It bothered him that he wasn´t allowed to write to anyone about this, but of course it´d be too dangerous. If the letter was intercepted, the secret would be out. He sighed; he would have loved to discuss the situation with his friends, even though he was not sure if they would understand his sudden compassion for Malfoy.

Harry spent the entire day in his room; as much as he felt the urge to go outside now that he no longer was being locked in, did he not want to leave Draco alone. Apart from that, he knew it would probably not be safe outside, thus he practiced patience and settled down at his desk; he had homework to do, after all.

-

Draco slept quietly until the early afternoon. Harry was staring outside dreamily, having lost his train of thought and drifted off, when the Slytherin gasped loudly enough to pull him out of his reverie. When he turned to the bed he saw Draco writhing about just as he had done the previous night, trying to get away from whoever haunted his dark dreams, and had started to bat the air with his hands.

With one step Harry was next to him. He was afraid Draco might hurt himself, thus he gripped his arms in order to calm him. Draco whimpered and shrunk back from Harry: "Not the chain," he pleaded, "not the chain..."

"Shshshshsh," Harry said, "wake up, Draco! It´s nothing but a dream, no one is going to hurt you!"

Draco only thrashed more desperately, Harry´s words did not seem to get through to him. It was quite hard to hold him down without using too much force; his body seemed frail, and Harry was mindful of his wounds.

He raised his voice a little: "Draco, please calm down, it´s me, Harry! I am not going to hurt you, you are dreaming!" He knew he was repeating himself, but he could not think of anything else to say; he thought it was most important to make Malfoy realize that his dreams were not real.

With a start, Draco suddenly reared up, opening his eyes, and tried to wrestle out of Harry´s grip. He was gasping and wide-eyed, obviously not properly awake yet for he squirmed relentlessly until Harry, desperately, slapped his face.

Draco immediately stilled, looking at Harry as if he had come out of a trance. His energy was spent, and to Harry´s horror started to sob dryly in helpless despair as the memories he had just lived through again overwhelmed him and the pain became too much to contain.

Harry could only imagine what Draco had been through, but he knew what it meant to feel literally devastated after having been through such an emotional ordeal, and he knew that there wasn´t much others could do about it, except for being there and offering comfort. Thus, Harry leaned forward and cautiously wrapped his arms around Draco.

He could feel the other boy tense, trembling violently, and was afraid that he might have gone too far, that Draco was reluctant of his touch while being awake, but a moment later, the Slytherin sagged against Harry, and the sobbing turned into weeping. Draco had not been treated this gently for a long time, and only when he had perceived Harry´s honest concern had his defences broken at last.

He knew it was pity, not affection that made his former enemy react like this, but did not want to care about that now; he needed someone to be there for him, someone who was strong. When he had been little, his parents had done this for him, but he had lost that kind of comfort forever; being held like this only emphasized his loss all the more, thus he cried so desperately that his whole body was convulsing.

Harry´s eyes were filling with tears as well; he had never seen someone else suffer like this, and it saddened his heart.

-

Gradually, Draco´s sobs weakened. Harry could feel little tremors run through him until they subsided completely, and his breathing evened out. He had fallen asleep. Harry, feeling shaken himself, lowered him down onto the mattress and pulled the blankets up around him.

Draco whimpered when Harry moved away; the Gryffindor quickly settled down next to him, not wanting to risk another nightmare. Draco had seemed fragile in his arms, and Harry wondered about how things could change so rapidly.

A short while later he had fallen asleep as well.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	3. Places

Thank you once again for your reading and reviewing!

**-o-**

**Chapter 3: Places**

**-o-O-o-**

The night remained quiet; Draco´s emotional breakdown had at least had the side effect of exhausting him so thoroughly that he slept deep and dreamlessly.

When Madam Pomfrey arrived in the following morning, Harry asked her if she couldn´t give Draco something against the nightmares, but she looked at him sadly and said that it would only delay the outcome but not dispose of the cause, and that it would probably be better if Draco dealt with his memories now instead of repressing them.

Harry, even though he found himself agreeing with that, sighed inaudibly.

The Healer laid an hand on his arm: "I know that this is quite hard on you as well, dear," she said. "Be assured that Professor Dumbledore would never have agreed to this if he didn´t think you were capable of handling the situation."

With a sympathetic squeeze, she turned towards Draco then.

He had only just woken up and was still sleepy when Madam Pomfrey began tending to him.

He did not make a sound this time, but Harry could see that he was clenching his hands, and cold sweat stood on his brow.  
Fortunately, the fever had abated in the meantime, bringing a little relief.

Madam Pomfrey did not seem content with the healing process, however, once she had assessed the internal injuries Draco had suffered from being raped.

Instead of lowering his legs back down on the bed she straightened up to look at him: "Am I right in assuming that the pain has become worse?" she asked, sounding a little alarmed.

Draco gave a hesitant nod. Madam Pomfrey looked as if she was having to subdue a sigh before she got up to produce another vial from her bag.  
She sat down next to Draco with it: "The wounds have become infected, dear. To keep the inflammation from spreading, I need to clean them again, but it will be very painful. Therefore I am going to put to you to sleep, all right?"

Her patient did not object, but swallowed the potion obediently. "You will begin to feel drowsy in no time at all," the Healer told him kindly, "there; do not fight it. That´s a good boy..."

Madam Pomfrey watched as Draco´s eyes closed. She had treated hundreds of people during her time at Hogwarts, had seen tears, panic and all kinds of injuries, but never had a case touched her like this.

-

When Draco was asleep, she finished her treatment and tucked him back in, then she turned to Harry: "The matter is quite delicate, but I am afraid I have to inform you about it nevertheless," she said in a low voice, quavering a little: "Whoever has done this to him has used utter violence and cruelty.

For some reasons, there were small particles of rust embedded in Mr Malfoy´s flesh, and apparently I have failed to remove them completely the first time I examined him."

"Rust?" Harry asked, non-comprehending, but feeling slightly queasy. "Because he has been shackled, you mean?"

"No," Madam Pomfrey replied without looking at him. "I am talking of the inner injuries he has sustained from... being violated."  
Her voice broke at the last two words, and a sob escaped her lips.

Harry´s queasiness turned into nausea as he remembered Draco´s words: "Not the chain..." and he only turned in time to vomit into his dustbin.

He stood there bent over and heaving even after the bout was over, shaken and apalled by the inhumanity Draco obviously had been exposed to.

A moment later, he felt Madam Pomfrey´s hand on his shoulder and slowly straightened up again, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, but still trembling.

Only when he met the Healer´s tear-filled gaze did he realize that his own eyes were swimming as well; without hesitating, the older witch closed her arms around him.

They remained like this for an unaccounted amount of time, both of them weeping until they had spent all their tears.

-

Draco felt like he was floating; he was weightless and unburdened. As he began to wake up, this feeling gradually changed.  
Apparently he was lying in bed. That was nothing unusual, was it? He had a faint inkling that he should remember something nevertheless, but he could not put his finger on it, as he was still too groggy.

After a while, he realized that someone was holding his hand, which struck him as strange. His mother perhaps? Had he been ill then?

With an effort, Draco opened his eyes. He blinked to clear the blur away; as his vision improved, he recognized that it was not his mother sitting next to him, but Harry Potter.

Draco stared at him as the memories came back to him all of a sudden, overpowering him: his mother would never hold his hand again, and his father... he whimpered, unable to contain himself.

Harry, who had stared out of the window, jumped and was startled by the horrified expression on his charge´s white face: "Draco," he soothed. "It´s all right... you´re safe."

Draco squirmed, looking at him wide-eyed as if he was actually looking through him, but clinging to Harry´s hand nevertheless.

-  
Harry wondered what might have happened that had upset Draco so quickly; he had been sleeping peacefully for once, due to the narcotic potion, but now he looked positively frightened and was breathing heavily.

The Gryffindor leaned forward and gently laid one hand on the other boy´s shoulder: "Calm down, Draco, it´s me, Harry! Do you hear me?"  
Draco gave the tiniest nod, but he was still close to hyperventilating.

Harry´s mind was reeling: what was he supposed to do, how could he prevent Draco from panicking?

He did the only thing that seemed logical to him: "I am here with you, and I won´t leave you alone," he said insistently. "Concentrate on my voice, will you? It´s good old Harry, the one you´re normally exchanging insults with."

He kept talking to the Slytherin, and Draco gradually calmed down.

He lay drenched in cold sweat; fighting off the images of dread was laborious. When the voice that had been there all the time finally permeated the haze of anguish in his mind, he tried with all his might to concentrate on it, clinging to the sounds like he was clinging to the hand which held his.

Harry was determined not to let on his own distress. He found the situation increasingly hard to bear, no matter how capable Dumbledore thought he was; ever since Draco had arrived here had Harry been through an emotional rollercoaster ride with him.

On the other hand, he had to admit, did it distract him from his own bad memories of the Triwizard Tournament, wasn´t that something?

-

Long after Draco had quietened, Harry was still sitting with him.

Draco was lying with closed eyes, breathing deeply, but his grip on Harry´s hand had not weakened, telling the latter that the Slytherin was not sleeping.

Harry mused on Madam Pomfrey; he had never seen her so openly upset. He was grateful that she had been there and would return each morning, and that he wouldn´t have to hide his sentiments from her.

When dusk began to settle in and twilight was filling the room, Harry cautiously disengaged his hand to light a lamp; apart from that, he was hungry, not having eaten all day.

Hedwig seemed to feel the same, since she was stretching and preparing to leave.

-

He was just about to rise when Draco opened his eyes: "H-harry," he muttered, his voice feeble. "You don´t... you don´t have to do this, you know..."

Taken by utter surprise, Harry froze: "Not to do what?" "Care for me... I know it´s awkward..."

Draco obviously struggled to get the words out: "Can ask Pomfrey to take me to St. Mungo´s."

Exhaustedly, he closed his eyes for a moment before continuing: "Just... just didn´t know what to do..."

Harry shook his head: "You´re talking nonsense, Malfoy," he said, straining to keep his voice straight, "it was the right choice to come here. You´re as safe as can be, whereas in St. Mungo´s..." he spared them what they both knew anyway.

Draco looked at him again: "But... it´s awkward..."

Harry sighed, but then he found himself smiling: "Yes, it is a little," he admitted.

Draco averted his eyes: "I don´t want your pity," he whispered.

Harry was taken aback: "Then I have good news for you, because you won´t get it," he retorted after a moment´s silence.  
At this, Draco looked up again, dumbfounded: "I won´t?"

Harry would have laughed, had the situation not been so tense: "I am not doing this because I am pitying you," he said pointedly, adding "brat," as an afterthought.

For the first time, something like a smile ghosted over Draco´s worn out face. "Must be your Gryffindor genes then," he muttered.

Grinning, Harry got up: "I am going to get something to eat. I´ll be back in a sec, okay?" He let Hedwig out, then went downstairs, glad to escape for a moment.

-

Draco tried to concentrate on his surroundings while he was alone.

When he shifted to take a look around, his body protested harshly; he could feel the strain on his wounds, and he also felt stiff from lying on his back all the time.

Doing his best to ignore it, Draco assessed the room. So this was where Potter spent his summers... he didn´t know what he had expected, but not a room as paltry as this.  
It didn´t look inhabited, but literally as if someone was only journeying through, as if he would be forgotten as soon as he left.

As if this wasn´t his home.

Draco was musing about this when Harry came back. He had lost his home as well, he did not even have a room like this...

-

The Gryffindor pulled him out of his thoughts when he set the tray down on the nightstand.

"Here we go," Harry said. "I´ve got some cold chicken, toast and grapes. Finger food, really. Oh, and ice-tea."

He helped Draco to sit up a bit, then held the tray on his knees so that they could both reach it.

They ate silently. Harry saw that Draco was trembling ever so slightly, and it filled him with sadness again.  
He still didn´t know the details of what had happened to Draco, but it obviously had changed him so much that virtually nothing was left of his old self, apart from the damage to his body.

The trembling however gradually increased until the injured boy was shaking and dropped the piece of bread he was holding.

-  
Harry started, thinking Draco was having a dizzy spell or might even pass out, but when he met his eyes something in the Slytherin´s gaze stopped him, and he realized that the faintness rather had to do with a new onset of horror.

"He killed her," he stammered, his eyes widening as if seeing something Harry couldn´t see. "He killed her, she is gone..."  
Harry, assuming that Draco was talking about his mother, cautiously put the tray aside, not knowing what to say.

There was nothing that would have eased the pain, as he knew from his own experience.

He inched closer to Draco, reaching out and touching his cheek with one hand to direct the boy´s gaze on himself in the attempt to make him focus on him, with the other he picked up the piece of bread Draco had dropped and tossed it aside before taking hold of the Slytherin´s hand once more: "He will not get here," he said calmly when Draco was looking at him.  
"He is not going to come near you again, all right?"

Draco´s voice was merely a whimper: "Can never go home again..."

Harry squeezed his hand: "We will sort it out," he said, helplessly, even though he was afraid of making empty promises.

Why should he of all people try to help his former enemy? How would he be able to at all, being only a teenager himself?

He didn´t have answers to this, but his heart ached at witnessing so much pain. Maybe it was his own pain mirrored here that touched him so; he couldn´t tell.

He wanted to help easing it, or at least make it bearable.

"Lie down," he said quietly. Draco didn´t protest and let Harry help him; he wanted to curl up and hide from the world, but the Gryffindor wouldn´t grant him that.

Instead, Harry lay down next to him and slipped underneath the blankets, which he pulled up over them until only parts of their heads were visible, then he cautiously wrapped his arm around Draco and held him close, similarly to how they had woken up the previous day. "It´s okay," he murmured, "you´ll be fine."

-

Harry had never been introduced to bedtime stories, had never had someone who had sat with him and told him fairytales when he was small, thus he didn´t know any he could have told Draco to calm him down.

That was why he kept repeating the same words over and over again, and the injured boy gradually stopped shaking and huddled against him.

-

Harry lay awake for hours, Draco´s words echoing in his mind long after the Slytherin had fallen asleep: "You don´t have to do this, you know... I don´t want your pity..." Harry sighed inaudibly; it was true, he didn´t pity Malfoy.

He rather sympathized for him, which he deemed an entirely different matter.

He could see that the situation didn´t lack a certain amount of irony: they had despised each other but had come to some sort of mutual understanding because they had both suffered from the hands of Voldemort and his Deatheaters.

At least he thought it was mutual. He could only guess why Draco had chosen to come here of all places, but chosen he had, right?

He had come to the one who had defeated the Dark Lord once, if unwittingly so, and had sought to fight him ever since he had known about his deeds.

It certainly had to mean something.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	4. Interference

I was absolutely overwhelmed by the reviews and amount of alerts,

many thanks to all of you!

And now on with the story...

**-o-**

**Chapter 4: Interference**

**-o-O-o-**

Dudley Dursley was not a very bright boy. He had however learned early in his life how to manipulate his parents so as to get his will, and he was not used to being refused something.

He enjoyed the benefits this brought him, showing off his superiority over his cousin Harry. Harry never got something new, or sweets, or was being taken out somewhere on special occasions, and Dudley thought it served him right, as he was a freak and had no parents.

-

This time, however, it was different. Dudley´s parents had sent him out of the room when the strange old man and the shabby looking one had entered the kitchen.

Dudley would have preferred to vamoose anyway, since he could too vividly remember his piggy tail, and these people clearly belonged to the kind of weird guys Harry was living with ever since his eleventh birthday.

He intended to eavesdrop, of course, but for some strange reason he couldn´t hear a thing when he was pressing his ear to the door, as all the sounds seemed muffled. So he didn´t find out what those two had said to his parents, who looked rather sullen afterwards.

His mom even snapped at him, something he hardly ever had experienced before.

He knew something was going on but did not know what exactly, and he hated that. Thus, he was desperate to find out. His father was constantly grumbling about that freak who had dared to intrude their peace, making Dudley even more curious.

Someone seemed to be with Harry, but it was quite silent in his cousin´s room most of the time.

-

-

Dudley had woken early from the need to pee, and on his way back from the loo had decided not to wait any longer.

He waddled up to Harry´s door as quietly as possible and pressed his ear to it: nothing could be heard inside.

With great caution he pressed down the handle and opened the door slowly, peering inside: the light was still dim, but the room´s occupants seemed to be asleep.

It was barely five, after all. He wrinkled his nose at the slight smell coming from the owl´s cage, which was currently empty, since Hedwig had not returned from her hunt yet.

Impatiently, Dudley stepped all the way inside and gaped when he realized that the bed was much larger than before.

But his jaw really dropped when he saw the blond boy sleeping next to Harry. Dudley neither noticed how ill he looked nor how thin he was; all he saw was that Harry had his arm around him and that they had snuggled up against each other.

He gasped audibly, for he could not imagine why his parents allowed this. His gasp caused Draco to flinch and open his eyes.

Being startled out of sleep like this was he not fully awake yet; unfortunately, Dudley had chosen exactly this moment to lean over him in order to have a closer look at him.

Having reached the size of a walrus, he was an alarming sight anyway, and right now he was wearing black pajamas with little pirate skulls on them.

All Draco saw was a massive dark form hovering above him. It was enough to make him scream.

-

Harry darted up, startled and befuddled from the sudden interruption of his peaceful slumber and unable to see clearly since his glasses were lying on the nightstand.

Draco was cowering next to him, trembling all over, and staring at Dudley wide-eyed, who had screamed as well and tripped over while backing away, landing heavily on his rear.

The next thing Harry new was that his uncle stormed in, his face dark red with rage.

He didn´t even stop to assess the situation but crossed the room and hauled Draco out of the bed by his neck, shaking the boy: "You insolent little twerp," he growled, fury evident in his contorted features, "I knew you were going to be trouble, no matter what that old madman said!"

Harry had meanwhile lunged for his glasses, unable to believe that this was happening. His uncle was jerking Draco around as if he were a ragdoll, the blond´s face a mask of horror and pain, while Aunt Petunia was trying to help "Duddykins" up, anxiously stroking his hair and looking for any damage he might have sustained.

Harry jumped to his feet: "Leave him be," he shouted, trying to prevent his uncle from hurting Draco further by attempting to grab Vernon´s free arm, "he didn´t do anything, it was Dudley who-"

Without further ado, Dursley dealt Harry a blow to his temple, an odd mixture between a punch and a slap, but it sent Harry to the ground and his glasses flying nevertheless.

Harry gasped, not only from the pain; never before had his uncle hit him. It seemed that something had snapped within the man, who now slammed Draco against the wall.

The blond boy cried out in pain as his numerous wounds were being aggravated, but Vernon ignored this: "You are nothing but a freak, boy, and to have the nerve to come here and bother my family with your presence! It´s enough that we have to deal with Harry, we don´t need any more of your barmy lot!" he hissed, each word dripping with venom.

Harry, even though his head was reeling, scrambled to his feet and over to his nightstand; he yanked open the drawer and grabbed his wand.

-

Turning around, he aimed at his uncle, determination radiating from him despite the fact that he couldn´t see much without his glasses: "Let go of him!" he said quietly but with a threatening undertone.

His uncle paused: "Don´t you dare, boy," he snapped, "I know that you´re not allowed to do that!"

Harry shrugged, never backing off: "I don´t care," he hissed, "for all I know, you are not allowed to do that either!"

Right then, a loud crack had all of them flinch, and a moment later, Mundungus Fletcher was standing in the room, his wand drawn.

Within seconds he took in Harry´s combat-ready posture and the way the fat man in the pajamas was gripping the shaking Draco, and did not hesitate, aiming his wand at Vernon as well: "Better let go of him," he drawled.

Vernon gave a disbelieving snort, but now Petunia squealed: "Vernon! Think of what they did to Duddy!" Slowly, the beefy man released his grip and shoved Draco away from him.

-

As soon as Draco was out of the firing line, Fletcher silently cast a spell, and Vernon froze, unable to move anymore, at which Petunia gave a shriek.

Ignoring her, Harry exhaled, only now realizing how tense he was: "Thank you," he breathed. "How did you know-" "Notification charm," Fletcher said. "Dumbledore has cast it in case someone broke in here."

Harry had meanwhile found his glasses and put them on, then he made his way over to Draco.

He could feel himself swaying slightly, due to the blow to his head, but Draco was off much worse, judging from the looks of it.

He had curled up into a ball and winced visibly when Harry gently touched his shoulder: "Draco," he soothed, "it´s Harry... it´s all right, he can´t hurt you anymore..."

-

Draco was shaking badly and did not respond. Alarmed, Harry noticed that there was blood pooling underneath him; his wounds seemed to have reopened due to the harsh treatment the boy had suffered.

Harry glowered at his uncle, who was still immobilized, and turned to Mundungus Fletcher: "We need Madam Pomfrey," he said urgently, "quickly."

-

-

Again his room was being crowded by people plus a large black dog. Harry was happy to see Snuffles; Sirius had wanted to make sure Harry was okay himself this time, thus Dumbledore had agreed to side-along apparition with the animagus.

Hedwig, who had meanwhile come back from her outing, eyed the dog suspiciously before tucking her head into her feathers. Harry was sure she was not sleeping yet but listening attentively.

-

Madam Pomfrey had levitated Draco onto the bed and had cast a spell which had produced a hospital curtain, so that she could tend to her patient with a little privacy.

Harry was sitting on his desk and pressing a bag of frozen peas to his throbbing temple while he was waiting. He had already told the headmaster what had happened, and Remus along with Fletcher had levitated Vernon downstairs, where Dumbledore and Sirius were currently dealing with him in the living room. Petunia and Dudley were sitting in the kitchen, guarded by Tonks who had accompanied the group this time.

"I certainly would not have expected something like this to happen, Harry," Dumbledore had said gravely. "And I still regard my decision to keep Mr Malfoy here with as the right thing to do. It seems I will have to make myself a little clearer though, concerning your relatives."

Sirius, who had transformed into his human form, had given a low growl at this: "I´ll be having a word or two with him as well," he said. "I have wanted to do that ever since I first heard of them."

"Now, now," Dumbledore had said, "we don´t want to be scaring him too much, I do not expect that to be helpful. You better not make it sound like a threat."

To Harry however, Sirius´ words had sounded like a promise.

-

Every now and then he could hear pained sounds and whimpers from behind the curtain, followed by Madam Pomfrey´s reassuring voice.

When Dumbledore, Remus and Sirius returned, Harry saw a kind of grim satisfaction on his godfather´s face: "It will be all right," Sirius growled, "or else." He did not continue, but that was unnecessary anway.

The headmaster now cleared his throat: "Your uncle will not interfere again," he told Harry in a quiet voice, "nor will your cousin. I furthermore have had a word with Petunia, regarding... provisions. She will make sure that you and Mr Malfoy will get proper nourishment and whatever is needed otherwise."

Sirius still looked angry: "It´s what he should get anyway," he fumed, "and not only because of an incident such as this! If only I had known how insufferable these people are!"

It was silent for a moment; to Harry it seemed as if a collective sigh was bearing down on them.

"There is nothing else we can do about it now," Dumbledore said and raised his hand when Sirius opened his mouth to object, "you know that."

Huffing frustratedly, Sirius crossed his arms, but did not speak anymore.

-

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Remus now asked kindly.

Harry lowered his hand and touched the sore skin on his temple with the other: "I´ll be okay," he said, even though his vision was slightly blurry and he felt queasy.

"You don´t look okay," Sirius said, stepping up to his godson and pulling him into a one-armed hug. Harry leaned against him, feeling his strong heartbeat, and for once was glad not to have to be strong anymore.

Only now did he fully realize what had just happened, and he sagged against the man, suddenly shaking: "He hit me! I nearly used magic against him," he mumbled. "I didn´t know what else to do... he was hurting Draco. And he hit me..."

Sirius took the bag of peas from him and put it down on the table, then he wrapped his other arm around Harry as well, pulling him close to make him feel secure: "It´s okay, pup," he said, sensing the boy´s distress. "He won´t do it again. And you did well; it´s a natural instinct to use your magic, and you know how to defend yourself. I am proud of you."

-

Harry closed his eyes: he could hear Sirius´ voice reverberate through his chest as he continued to soothe the boy, telling him that Vernon would never hit him again, as he had made sure of that, and that Harry was safe now.

Harry wished he would stay. Ever since he had first come to Hogwarts had he experienced kindness from various people, but Sirius came closest to what it felt like having a father.

-

-

Draco had been so agitated and frightened that Madam Pomfrey had resolved to sedating him.

Her own hands were shaking as she cared for him; for all she knew, Dursley would have killed Draco had Fletcher not interrupted.

The lash marks on his back as well as his inner injuries had reopened and were bleeding when she had arrived; the skin on his neck was scratched, reddened and swollen from the man´s grip, and Mr Malfoy was sobbing and shaking violently, too terrified to uncurl or even look at her.

He was now resting calmly under the forced ease the sedative was putting him into, not sleeping yet. Madam Pomfrey stroked his temple: "Go to sleep, love," she murmured. "It will do you good."

-

As soon as she vanished the curtain did Sirius transfer back into the large black dog, an unpleasant reminder that Draco was not supposed to see him.

Madam Pomfrey tended to Harry first, applying a cooling salve to his temple and examining his eyes with her illuminated wand: "You have a slight concussion, dear," she concluded after Harry had admitted that his vision was slightly blurry and he was feeling a little nauseous. "You better lie down as well and stay in bed today."

She paused and continued in a very low voice: "Are you quite all right, love?" she asked gently. Harry could have wept again from the compassion in her features, but he forced himself to give her a small smile: "I will be," he whispered.

The Healer quickly stroked over the brave boy´s cheek, bracing herself, then turned to Dumbledore.

-

-

It was agreed that Madam Pomfrey would stay with the boys for a while, since she was worried what would happen once the sedative wore off. Snuffles whimpered at this, wanting to stay as well, but Dumbledore shook his head: "You know how dangerous it is," he sighed. "It is already very risky that you came here at all."

The dog´s ears drooped, but he remained silent.

He and Harry exchanged an understanding look before Madam Pomfrey ushered the boy back to bed. "Where is your blanket?" she asked. Harry shrugged: "Draco has it. I have used my cloak."

"Oh dear," she breathed, "I hadn´t thought... I am sorry." She raised her wand and summoned another blanket from her bag, then she tucked Harry in.

-

After Dumbledore, Remus and Snuffles had left, it became very silent in the house. No one could be heard downstairs, but Harry did not care if his relatives were petrified or simply rigid with fury, all that mattered was that things were going to go back to normal, or what came closest.

Madam Pomfrey however looked at her watch: "I am going to make some breakfast for you, dear," she said. Harry nodded cautiously, for his head really hurt now; when the Healer had left the room, he turned to look at Draco, whose breathing was slowly evening out as he was falling asleep.

His face still looked ashen, and Harry felt ashamed for his oafish cousin and his uncle with his mindless brutality. In a way, they were not a whit better than the people who had mistreated Draco first.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	5. How We Proceed

**-o-  
**

**Chapter 5: How We Proceed  
**

**-o-O-o-**

A moment after Madam Pomfrey had gone downstairs, Harry heard a shriek- undoubtedly Aunt Petunia.

He grimly crossed his arms: if anyone was fit to deal with her, it would be the Hogwarts Healer, he conceded. He listened intently; he could hear Petunia a few more times, but other than that, it remained silent.

-

Petunia, who was boiling water for some tea, had indeed shrieked when a strange woman entered her kitchen with an air of being entitled to do so.

"Who are you?" she snapped warily, backing away from the matron.

"Poppy Pomfrey, Healer at Hogwarts," she answered coolly, "I have just seen to my patient, as his condition has been aggravated by your husband´s assault."

Petunia gasped for air: "Assault? My husband is sitting in the living-room, unable to move," she screeched, "while my poor son is crying his eyes out!"

"Your son is doing no such thing, as he is currently trying to eavesdrop behind that door over there," Madam Pomfrey replied. "And I would not call him poor, since he obviously is responsible for what has just happened. He would do well not to try something like that again, I dare say."

Petunia turned red, thus remarkably resembling her husband: "Are you threatening my Dudley?", she shrieked, outraged.

The Healer raised one eyebrow: "I do believe you have understood me perfectly well," she said. "Your son and consequently your husband have inflicted severe damage on that poor boy, who has been through quite an ordeal anyway. If he will suffer from any long-term effects, it is your family´s fault. Those are the facts, there is no point in raising your voice or arguing."

"We did not ask him to come here," Petunia said venomly, even though her resolve seemed to lessen, judging from the way her shoulders had hunched at the other woman´s words.

"Well, you have made that very clear," Madam Pomfrey said icily. "Now, I do not wish to discuss this any further. I do however believe you are in charge of provisions?"

-

-

Harry got the best breakfast he had ever had in this house.

Madam Pomfrey looked grim when she returned, but she was carrying a tray with tea, fruit juice, steaming porridge, buttered crumpets, toast, delicious smelling ham and a bowl with orange slices.

Harry did not eat much of it, though he felt himself calming down slowly; being cared for like this was still very unfamiliar for him.

He had once been very ill when he had been younger; Dudley and his buddies had chased him as usual, and he had had to hide until they were gone, miraculously finding himself on the roof of a shed next to their school.

It saved him from getting beaten up, but he didn´t know how to get down, and it had started to rain heavily. He remembered his fear; Dudley had taken away Harry´s glasses, thus he could not even see how far it was to the ground.

-

By the time the seven year old boy had assembled the courage to jump nevertheless, he had been soaked thoroughly and was frozen to the bone.

He recalled burning up with fever and aching everywhere when he awoke the following morning. His head had felt woozy, and he had cried because he had felt so miserable.

His aunt had merely scolded him for getting wet however and had forced him to take some pills which she said were helping against the fever. She had brought him tea and a bowl of cold water with a flannel, and Dudley had looked in to complain about Harry´s loud coughing a few times, but apart from that had he mostly lain alone in his cupboard, too ill to rise for days.

No one had really cared about him or for him, not even then.

One more reason to be grateful for being a wizard, he thought while he leaned back and closed his eyes. Who knew what would have happened to him if he had not gone to Hogwarts... his eyes closed while he was dwelling on this subject, and he fell asleep.

-

-

He woke up much later because someone was talking. Blinking, he turned towards the voice and saw that it was Madam Pomfrey who was speaking with Draco in a soothing voice, holding both his hands in hers.

The sedative had abated while he had been sleeping; when he woke up, he did not immediately recognize the Healer, due to still being dazed, and had simply closed his eyes again.

A little while later, though, an angry purple face had come back to him, the face of a man who had yelled at him and hurt him, and he started to tremble. _You are nothing but a freak, boy_... the words hit him hard, for he knew that the man was right... he was pathetic, unable to help himself and trapped in a situation he knew no way out of.

-

Only when Madam Pomfrey took his hands and started to talk to him, as she had seen that he was getting agitated again, was he able to drown out the angry voices in his head. There were not only the angry man´s and his own, but also others he never wished to hear again, voices with so much malice in them that it made him shiver.

He did his best to focus on the Healer, who was telling him that he needn´t worry, that Prof. Dumbledore had sorted it out and that it wouldn´t happen again. "You will be fine, dear," he said.

Her words echoed in his mind: _Dear... dear... will be fine, dear... freak_... He closed his eyes, his face contorting with pain.

Another squeeze on his hand redirected his attention on Madam Pomfrey: "Look at me," she urged. "It was not your fault, do you hear me? That man..."

"... is a bully." a different voice said unexpectedly.

It was Harry, whom they both looked at now: "He has always been calling me a freak ever since I can remember," he added, trying to show Draco that it was quite normal for his uncle to act like that. "He hates the wizarding world because he doesn´t understand it, I think."

Draco looked at him: "He´s always been like that?", he asked, his voice a whisper.

Harry nodded: "He has never hit me before, though," he said. "He has never liked me and was happiest when he didn´t need to see me. I usually stayed in my cupboard whenever I didn´t have to do chores." "C-cupboard?"

Harry blushed; he had not realized Malfoy couldn´t know about that. "Before I got my Hogwarts letter I lived in the cupboard under the stairs."

-

Unnoticed by the two boys, Madam Pomfrey turned away and dabbed her handkerchief at her eyes.

How could Dumbledore leave Harry with these people, she asked herself. She had noticed how skinny and small Harry had been when he first came to Hogwarts, but had thought nothing unusual of it, as boys in that age often were skinny and small after all. Now that she knew, however, it made her feel even more for him.

Draco´s gaze was so disbelievingly that Harry smiled lopsidedly: "That´s why I´m not afraid of spiders."

The tiniest smile tugged at the corners of the blond boy´s mouth at this. He was still trembling, but it had abated a little.

Harry laid down again and inched closer to Draco, lying his hand on his arm: "He didn´t mean you," he said quietly. "He was angry at me." "Because of me..." Draco whispered.

"No," Harry smiled again, sadly this time: "Believe me, it was never you. He just needed an excuse."

-

Harry´s closeness calmed Draco immensely, and the warmth against his arm helped him to concentrate so that he was able to shut out his fear.

Madam Pomfrey made sure he ate and drank something and stayed until he had fallen asleep again.

She had used a numbing charm on his injuries, since she didn´t want to give him a pain-relieving potion in addition to the sedative.

She had refrained from numbing the wounds in the first place because she feared he might overtax himself if he didn´t feel the pain to remind him to take it slowly, but it seemed to put him at ease since it made lying more comfortable, and she knew Harry would take care of it that he would not aggravate his own wounds any further.

She was in fact astounded by Harry´s sensitivity; for a boy who had not gotten to know much kindness before the age of eleven it seemed a remarkable trait.

Feeling anger welling up in her again, Madam Pomfrey got up and took the tray, having decided to pay Petunia another visit to make sure she had understood what was being expected of her.

-

-

Harry woke up from a weight suddenly pressing down on him, if gently. He started, relieved to see that it was Hedwig. The magnificient white owl hooted softly and clicked her beak, waiting for Harry to get up and let her out.

He gingerly stroked her before scrambling to the foot of the bed and getting to his feet, suddenly glad to have her.

His head felt better; only now did he realize that Madam Pomfrey had gone. She had left a small jar with more salve for him on the nightstand, but apart from that, nothing indicated that he had been here most of the day.

Harry watched Hedwig soar into the sky before turning back to the darkening room. He pulled an old jumper over his pajamas and made his way to the bathroom to take a leak before going downstairs and finding something for dinner.

-

The kitchen was empty, but as soon as he had opened the fridge did Petunia come in: "There is some quiche left," she said testily, "you can reheat it in the micro-wave. And there´s chocolate ice-cream in the freezer for dessert. Don´t make a mess."

With that, she left.

Harry looked after her, gaping: that had been almost bordering on something akin to a concession, at least if one knew her.

Apparently, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey had managed to make her see that starving Harry was not an option any longer.

-

When he came back into the room, Draco was still sleeping, and Harry did not wake him. He was glad that the other boy was resting for once and had not even noticed when the Gryffindor had gotten up.

-

-

Harry woke up in the middle of the night once, since could feel Draco moving; he had turned onto his side. Harry considered waking him up to turn him back onto his back, but then decided against it, as he did not want to bother him unnecessarily.

He would not have expected the Slytherin to be able to go to sleep after the day´s incident at all.

-

When he awoke in the morning, Draco and himself had huddled together; his arm was lying around the other´s waist again, and he had turned onto his side as well.

Still sleepy, Harry blinked: he had not considered himself as being protective, but apparently he was. Or maybe Draco served as a late substitute for a stuffed animal? He had never had one as far as he knew.

He frowned at his own thoughts, since this was about Draco after all and not himself, but he remained like this, for it actually felt good and he was too tired to move anway.

-

He had dozed off again when he felt the other boy stir. He slowly opened his eyes and met Draco´s eyes, still tired as well but watching him intently. Harry held his gaze, trying to read his mind.

"Why are you so nice to me?" Draco murmured very softly.

Harry studied him a moment longer before answering in an equally low voice: "Maybe I need this comfort as well." A small smile lightened up his features."I just realized I never had a teddybear."

Draco closed his eyes again for a second, a choked laugh escaping his lips, sounding as if he was bordering near tears: "Can´t be really comfortable with me. ... S-sorry, Potter..." he replied. "I didn´t know... s-sorry for everything... have been acting so stupid."

"Yes," Harry said after due consideration, "you have." "I´ll try not to... from now on..." Draco muttered.

Harry furrowed his brow: "I don´t think that´s possible. It wouldn´t be you."

"That´s the point..." the Slytherin answered, his voice so faint that it was barely audible now, "Draco Malfoy is dead."

-

Harry did not reply, for he didn´t know how. It was understandable if Malfoy wanted nothing to do anymore with the lot which had done this to him, but he couldn´t possibly become an entirely different person, could he?

Everything he had ever learned, been taught and believed would become worthless then, wouldn´t it?

-

"It´s not so bad," Draco continued exhaustedly, still holding Harry´s gaze, "he was a jerk anyway. Potter... I... am sorry for so many things I have done... you wouldn´t believe... need to apologize to so many... felt so superior..." He fell silent and closed his eyes.

Harry sought for something to say: "You will work it out," he murmured, feeling very helpless once more.

Draco however began to sob silently: "...been living a lie!" he ground out while tears were rolling down from under his closed eyelids. "Cannot go on like this... cannot believe a thing anymore, he´s lied to me... he´s only ever_ lied_ to me..." He was shaking now.

-

Harry slid up on the mattress a little, very cautiously shifting his arm from Draco´s waist up to his shoulders, and inched closer to him until the other´s head rested against the Gryffindor´s collarbone.

Harry had taken such a comfort from Sirius´ embrace that he couldn´t think of any other way to console Draco, now that words were failing him.

And Draco, as if he was drowning, wrapped his arm around Harry and clung to him as if holding on to dear life. Images of how he had hugged himself when Harry found him came to the Gryffindor´s mind.

"Shshshsh...," Harry finally whispered when Draco wouldn´t calm down. The blond boy was crying desperately again, his hopelessness evident in his heartbroken sobs. Truly heartbroken, Harry thought, there couldn´t be any word which was more appropriate than that.

"Shshshsh... you are not alone..." he tried, "there are other people there for you now..."

He knew that this was no empty phrase: even if Malfoy were to assume his former arrogant behaviour once they were back at Hogwarts, even if he would keep sneering and ridiculing Harry in the future, though it was hardly imaginable right now, would he still have changed in the Gryffindor´s eyes.

Some things were bound to leave an imprint.

-

-

Madam Pomfrey was quite worried about Draco even though she tried not to let it on. She knew that he was not particularly popular with the members of the Order, but she felt for him nevertheless.

She had seen the terror in his eyes, eyes that looked haunted, and she had seen the extent of cruelty he had been subject to in his injuries.

-

She had just stocked her bag with the potions and supplies she needed for him this morning when Dumbledore approached her.

His expression was grave as she spoke: "I am going to accompany you, Poppy; I need to speak with Mr Malfoy. I suspect you will not approve of it, but there is something I am going to have to request of the boy," he said without any ado, looking into her eyes. "If we are to find the people who have had him captive we need to know what exactly has happened. Therefore I would like to use my pensieve."

The Healer was appalled: "But Albus- he is in no state to deal with those memories yet, let alone witness them like an onlooker!"

"He will not have to," Dumbledore said quietly. "We can even do it while he sleeps, so that he doesn´t have to recall them actively- as long as he gives us his consent, of course. It takes nothing but a little Legilimency."

Madam Pomfrey was not appeased by his words: "I strongly disapprove of it, Albus," she said. "That boy has gone through a terrible ordeal, and just yesterday has he been mauled by that Muggle brute! How will he ever find the rest he needs?"

"He might find it once those who have put him through said ordeal are found and detained," the Headmaster replied kindly. "I do have my suspicions, of course, but we need proof. And if I am assuming rightly that his own father has been among his captors, I am sure it is in young Draco´s interest to see him arrested."

Madam Pomfrey looked down at her hands; Dumbledore was right, even though it seemed a terrible thing to do.

She nodded hesitantly, obviously shaken: "Well," she then said, bracing herself. "Shall we leave?"

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	6. What happened to Draco

Dearest readers and reviewers, in this chapter you´ll finally get to know

what happened. It´s told from Draco´s perspective.

Warnings for violence, rape and torture.

**-o-**

**Chapter 6: What happened to Draco**

**-o-O-o-**

Impenetrable darkness and a bone-chilling cold were adding to Draco´s panic. He had woken up in what appeared to be a dungeon, lying on damp, foul-smelling straw.

The first thing he had noticed had been a bad headache, followed by the realization that his hands were bound behind his back by what felt like iron manacles.

He had tried to move but found he couldn´t, since his body didn´t seem to function properly. He desperately tried to recall what had happened, but his mind was too blank and fraught with terror.

When a drawn- out creaking told him that the door to his cell was being opened, his stomach jolted with fear.

Two hooded figures came in, and for one wild moment he thought he was in Azkaban and those were Dementors, but when they hauled him to his feet and he saw their masks, he realized they were Death Eaters.

And suddenly it all came back to him: his father yelling at him furiously because Draco would not agree to act on his orders, orders Lucius had gotten from the Dark Lord.

He had never seen his father so beside himself with rage; his pale face had been dark red and contorted with wrath.

-  
For the first time ever had Draco realized how serving the Dark Lord seemed to slowly drain a person´s humanity, for in front of him stood a beast, not his father.

It was then when Draco had, also for the first time, felt real fear.

-

-

The same fear was consuming him now as the Death Eaters silently pulled him along. He stumbled several times as his legs were so stiff and unresponding, and in addition to this his ankles were shackled and connected by a chain.

Anger about being treated like this welled up inside him, but when they had reached their destination, it quickly turned into horror: they had entered a large room which resembled a dungeon as well.

It had high, arched ceilings and was illuminated by torches, but Draco´s attention was on the dozen of Death Eathers assembled within.

-

They parted when the other two dragged their prisoner forward; chains were hanging low from the ceiling, to which Draco´s manacles were now being attached, leaving him in an awkwardly bent forward position.

He was unable to straighten up due to the spell which had largely immobilized him, but he could see that the Death Eaters had formed a circle around him, leaving him vulnerably and defenceless in their midst.

No one was talking or making a sound; an air of excited anticipation was palpable nevertheless, it seemed they were waiting for something.

A shiver ran down Draco´s spine as he realized that his father must have betrayed him; obviously he was about being marked as a traitor and going to pay.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to brace himself: he would not give them the satisfaction to cry.

-

The eerie silence in the room was finally penetrated by slowly approaching footsteps which seemed to come to a halt in front of Draco.

With an effort, he raised his head and met a pair of bright red eyes.

Voldemort.

Draco did his best not to flinch, especially when the horrid face came nearer as the Dark Lord leaned forward: "Young Draco Malfoy," he murmured in what sounded like an almost dreamy voice, "fancy meeting you here and under such ... regrettable circumstances!"

He straightened up to address the crowd around them: "You see, young Malfoy has refused to serve me in a most outrageous way."

-

A whisper filled the room, but was quickly silenced again when Voldemort continued: "I had instructed his father to acquire the boy´s help- he is, after all, attending Hogwarts,together with Harry Potter."

He hissed the name with an air of disgust, eliciting another round of whispers, but ignoring it: "No one else would have had the opportunity to get near the boy without seeming suspicious. I dare say it would have been easy for Draco to bring me Potter, but he chose to refuse!"

This time, the voices rose above a mere whisper.

-

Draco felt his blood pounding in his head. Voldemort leaned forward once more, whispering close to his ear: "Which made me wonder, of course... wether it was plain cowardice or wether your family was not truly loyal to me any more, despite your father´s assurances?

He has run from the Dark Mark before, after all. You have to understand that I can´t allow my followers to waver- they do not choose twice. And they do not impede my plans!  
Thus I demanded your father to prove his faithfulness-and he did, by offering to bring you here, to my newly found residence."

He fell silent, his words still hanging in the cold air like smoke.

-

"What do you want with me?" Draco ground out; his throat was so dry that his voice was raspy.

Voldemort laughed, a high-pitched, unpleasant sound: "I want you to reconsider," he then hissed. "You can choose to either comply or die, it´s as simple as that. You are here so we can assist you in your choice- surely you will see reason after I have shown you the alternative."

He raised his wand: "_Crucio_."

-

Agony shot through Draco´s body like he had never experienced it before.

It was beyond pain, it felt like being torn apart and burned at the same time; he was not aware that he was screaming, did not hear Voldemort´s laughter; pain was all that was there, eating him alive.

When it finally stopped, he slumped, his body deprived of all energy and aching fiercely; adding to this was the fact that he was being suspended by his wrists, which were still bound behind his back.

His shoulders felt like they were on fire as his weight was pulling on them, and he tried to get his feet underneath him to support himself.

Through the haze of pain in his mind did he hear the Dark Lord´s voice once more: "You could spare yourself all this if you decided to rethink, Draco. What´s the Potter boy to you anyway?"

Draco was panting: "I- am not- going to- bring him- to you." "_Crucio_."

White hot pain once more, devouring his insides and leaving nothing of him but the wish that it would end.

His screaming abated when his voice gave out, but the pain was still there and he had no vent for it, so he screamed silently, his face a mask of terror.

When it ended this time, his knees buckled. His shoulders screamed in protest, but he couldn´t even try to scramble back to his feet, he just hung limply in his bonds, shaking and trying to breathe the pain away.

The Dark Lord was not willing to grant him a break, however.

-

At one point, Draco had lost consciousness. A bliss, but not to his tormentor´s liking, thus Draco was being woken up with an enervating spell.

He found himself in a different position though: he was still hanging from the ceiling by his manacles, but they had been fastened above his head this time, stretching his arms and leaving his body to dangle by his wrists, as his toes barely grazed the ground.

And his robes and shirt had gone, he was merely wearing his pants.

-

As soon as Draco was coherent did the pain come back to him: his whole body was aching, but his wrists and shoulders were worst.  
He was also freezing; cold sweat was covering his skin, making him shiver.

The Dark Lord now stepped up to him: "What is your answer now, young Malfoy?" he hissed. "Are you still being unwilling? Am I in the end to suspect that the Malfoy family has indeed forgotten where their loyalties lie?"

Draco did not know how he managed to find his voice, but he knew that his own life was forfeit anyway: "It´s- only about me-" he croaked, barely audible.

It hurt to speak since he had screamed himself hoarse.

Voldemort laughed again, cruelly: "And why should I believe a traitor like you?" he asked, sounding almost amused, raising his wand once more.

-

Draco braced himself for another Cruciatus curse, but instead, his throat suddenly constricted. He gasped for air, but couldn´t inhale.

Struggling against his bonds, he realized that the dark wizard was strangling him.

Draco had already begun to black out when he was finally being released. He gasped for air once more, desperate to fill his starving lungs.

"Choking on your own presumptuousness?" Voldemort´s teasing voice penetrated the fog in his brain: "It will help you sort your priorities. But I still haven´t gotten an answer to my question. I need to know how far a true supporter is willing to go, and I need to know wether your father still is a true supporter. Lucius!"

One of the masked figures stepped forward. "Master?" "You have heard your son. Do you think there are any measures you could think of which might help... persuading him to see reason?"

The cold voice of his father did neither tremble nor hesitate when he answered: "I do indeed, Master." "Well then, go ahead."

Draco couldn´t stop himself from shaking. His father was raising his wand now...

-

Seconds later, a sharp pain lanced across his back, as if he had been whipped. He gasped audibly; the pain that was evident in this exclamation seemed to please Voldemort, for his horrid snake-like face broke into a smile while he was attentively watching the boy.

As Lucius repeated the spell, Draco could feel something warm trickling down his back and with a sickening feeling realized that it was his own blood.

The pain increased with every single lash. Draco bit his lip; he couldn´t scream anymore, but he didn´t want to make any other sounds either.

It didn´t work though; he was too exhausted and in too much agony to be able to contain himself.

Pained wimpers escaped his lips with every new gash his father´s wand caused him, but in the end he didn´t care anymore.

No one else did either.

-

-

The same routine was repeated for days, even though the methods varied. The Dark Lord and his henchmen tortured Draco with a vengeance, but he wouldn´t budge no matter how painful it was.

Afterwards, they threw him back into his cell, healing those of his injuries which were easily curable, such as broken bones, so that they would be able to start over the next time.

He didn´t get any food or water; the cell however was so damp that there was enough moisture pooling in dents of the stone walls, and he managed to at least revive his dry tongue with it, even though it was nearly too much for him to scramble to his feet and move.

He hardly slept either, for his body was aching from the abuse nevertheless, and he usually was too unnerved and exhausted to find rest.

He simply couldn´t stop his mind from reeling. Countless hours passed in which he asked himself how his father could have done this to him.

He half-hoped that Lucius was acting under an Imperius curse, but in his heart he knew that he didn´t.

Voldemort´s question echoed in Draco´s head: _What´s the Potter boy to you anyway_?

-

He hadn´t known that himself until the Triwizard Tournament. He had seen Harry after he had come back from the graveyard, being in a terrible state but still holding on to Cedric´s dead body with fierce determination.

Draco, though he wouldn´t have expected it, had felt a first tinge of respect then. It had increased during the following days; he knew of course what had happened, and Potter´s strained face told him that it had been terrible.

Yet the boy who lived had still held his head high, facing what was to come and what Dumbledore confirmed in his speech at the Leaving Feast: Voldemort had come back.

After all the Dark Lord had put him through already did Potter still not seem intimidated by him. Draco had been impressed, as he found he had already been throughout the year.

Harry had managed to cope with so many things, Rita Skeeter´s articles to begin with. Of course he himself had tried to give Harry a hard time as often as possible, and had not even refrained from collaborating with the journalist, something he was not actually proud of.

But now that Voldemort had come back to power indeed, Harry suddenly appeared in a different angle. He had always had a good reason to fight the Dark Lord, had he not?

He had always followed his determination to destroy the one who had tried to destroy him and taken his parents´ life.

-

Draco couldn´t but wonder about him. And he had begun to question his father´s actions; the more power Voldemort was gaining, the more obnoxious did Lucius seem.

He was sucking up to the evil wizard, Draco suddenly realized, and he had indeed behaved cowardly at the Quidditch World Cup.

He couldn´t take his father very serious anymore, it was as if a veil had been lifted from Draco´s eyes: if being a Death Eater meant behaving like that, bootlicking, he didn´t want to become one.

-

-

If he had thought the first few days had been bad, he had been wrong. One night they didn´t take him back to his cell but threw him into one of the far corners, where he lay battered and bloodied, on the verge of passing out from the pain.

Through the dizziness in his head he heard Voldemort´s voice speaking up: "Yes... maybe there are other methods indeed... have your ways with him then. But don´t kill him yet."

Soon afterwards, Draco was being pulled to his feet again; he cried out weakly, but couldn´t struggle as they bent him over a coarse stone table and pulled down his pants.

A new surge of panic flooded through his weary mind as he realized what they were doing, and he writhed to escape their grips; they had taken off the manacles and were holding his outstretched arms down.

He felt cold hands groping his body ungently, and someone behind him was panting; a moment later, he felt someone move between his legs, and then something fleshy was being driven into him.

He screamed for the pain was so excruciating, it felt like being split apart.

"Scream all you want," the man hissed, "this is what you get for refusing our Master the loyalty he deserves!"

And it didn´t stop; the man seemed to be huge and he was pushing forward gruntingly. It seemed to take ages until he was fully seated.

Draco felt nausea welling up in him as the man started to thrust, tearing his tender skin; it hurt badly, and his already injured body couldn´t take it anymore.

He fainted momentarily, but came to his senses when the man tightly grabbed his hips and started to thrust viciously.

Draco had trouble breathing by the time the man came into him, for everything hurt.

-

After the first Death Eater had pulled out of him, another one replaced him.

He was heavy and grunting, and Draco´s legs gave out under him from the agony the forceful pounding inflicted on him; apart from that, his bare skin was being ground against the stone table.

The boy pulled back to a place inside him so that he didn´t have to witness how many people were actually "having their ways with him".

At one point his dazed mind registered that it had stopped, and that blood and semen were trickling down his legs.

When they let go of him, he collapsed.

-

-

He awoke in his cell hours later, lying on his side though not being manacled for once. He tried to raise his head but couldn´t.

Even the tiniest movement ached fiercely, making it impossible to reach the wall on which he could smell the water. Draco closed his eyes, unaware that he was whimpering.

He had drifted off again when the door to his cell was being opened. Someone came in and knelt down next to him, lifting his head and holding his wand to the boy´s mouth, magically spilling water into it.

Draco coughed and swallowed out of reflex, waking up from it. He flinched when he realized that he was not alone, but the man hushed him and shed his hood: it was his father.

The boy looked at him, craving for a friendly face, for someone to embrace him and tell him it was over and everything would be fine, desperately hoping his father was here to help him, but when Lucius spoke, his voice was cold: "You have embarrassed me greatly, Draco.

I was hoping you might review your decision, but it seems I was wrong in expecting you to consider your family and your name first. And what grieves me most is that your mother has taken to defend you. I couldn´t let her get away with that, of course."

-

Cold fear ran through Draco´s aching body: "What have you done to her?" he wanted to yell, but all that came out was a mere whisper, hoarse and feeble.

"That is not of your concern anymore," Lucius answered curtly. "I just wanted to inform you that I do not regard you as a son any longer. You have betrayed me, and I have waited too long to join forces with the Dark Lord once more to let you get in my way."

Draco, though it was painful, ignored his words: "What have you done to Mother? Tell me!" he managed to croak.

But Lucius let go of him now and got to his feet: "I will not violate you with my flesh," he said before he turned to go. "May that be of consolence for you."

-

-

Violate Draco he did nevertheless; by betraying him, by handing him over to Voldemort, by torturing him, and in the end by using a chain on him when he was unable to rape his own son but participating in brutalizing him nevertheless.

Up until then Draco had thought it was impossible to feel and endure more pain and humiliation than he was already in, but when his father pushed the corroded, thick chain into him, tearing his abused insides open and muttering something about subordination, something inside of him broke.

-

He passed out a while later, when the next Death Eater was taking him, pressing the many particles of rust the chain had left deeper into his torn flesh.

He awoke back in his cell, grateful for being alone; they had not bothered to heal him this time, and he could feel blood running out of him as soon as she shifted.

He did not care, though, did not even think about reaching the water; he just lay there, naked, broken and bleeding.  
He did not feel the cold as his body was in shock and his mind was numb.

-

When he heard the door opening slowly, he closed his eyes; he did not think he was going to survive this night if they came to get him anew.

He was not hauled up again however, but someone knelt down next to him and began fiddling with the manacles, which soon fell away; same with the ones on his ankles.

Then whoever it was spelled a robe onto him; it was his own, torn in places but welcome nevertheless.

"What-" Draco started, his voice barely above a faint whisper, when the unknown figure, still hooded and masked, helped him to sit up and gave him a cup of water. He drank greedily, choking on it several times.

"Do not ask me questions," a voice said tonelessly. "I cannot watch this any longer, you´re just a boy..." The man held up his hand: "Take my wand. It will get you out of here. Just use it to turn something into a portkey! Then fly, hide the portkey and yourself, be safe!"

Draco gasped: "He... will kill you," he murmured. "Aren´t you going- to come?"

"No." The voice was suddenly soft.

Draco hesitated to take the wand- what if this was a trap?

"I c-can´t-" he stammered, but the voice urged him on: "Come on, boy, just get away from this dreadful place. It will ease my mind and help me find peace."

-

Draco, shaking, reached for a loose stone and aimed the wand at it, hesitating once more: where should he go?

His initial idea was Malfoy Manor, to look for his mother, but he knew they would search there for him first.

Hogwarts? It would probably be deserted over the summer and he very likely wouldn´t even get in.

His feverish mind was reeling helplessly, but then he knew. With trembling fingers he reinforced the grip on the wand:"Thank you," he muttered, concentrating hard on the destination: "Portus!"

The stone glowed blue-ish for a few seconds. Draco dropped the wand.

-

Just before he felt the familiar sensation of the invisible hook behind his navel did the hooded figure take up his wand and directed it at his own forehead.

When Draco felt being jerked forwards as he was being pulled to the new location, he faintly heard the words "Avada Kedavra" before the cell was suddenly cast in a green light.

-

A moment later, he landed hard on his feet in broad daylight, his legs giving out under him at once. He crumpled to the ground, panting and still trying to come th grips what had just happened.

When he looked around, he found himself in the driveway of a plain Muggle house. He shoved the portkey into a pocket of his robes and tried to get up.

It was too much, his legs wouldn´t support him. He crawled towards the house and collapsed onto the threshold.

There was a doorbell, and the sign right underneath it said "Dursley". He didn´t know if these were Harry Potter´s relatives, but he reached up and rang the bell nevertheless.

Only no one answered.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	7. Reasons

**-o-**

**Chapter 7: Reasons**

**-o-O-o-**

Madam Pomfrey and Harry had waited outside while the Headmaster talked to Draco about the Pensieve.

Draco´s eyes had widened with trepidation at Dumbledore´s request. His body had started to shake, and his face had gone even paler than it already had been, but he returned the Headmaster´s gaze nevertheless: "My- my memories?"

The old man´s eyes had rested on him benignly: "You would not have to relive them," he repeated.

Draco had made a strangled sound: "I am constantly reliving them wether I want to or not," he whispered. "It´s just- I don´t - what they did-" he broke off, unable to put his thoughts into words.

Dumbledore had sat down on the edge of the bed then. Lowering his voice, he had spoken gently: "There is absolutely no reason for you to be ashamed."

Draco had turned his head away. That was easy to say, but hard to achieve. He knew that Dumbledore was only trying to help him, but he still felt so humiliated whenever his mind played those scenes over and over again, he did not wish for others to witness them.

It was simply unthinkable, even more than talking about it.

"Please, I d-don´t know if I can," he had whispered, mortified.

Dumbledore had felt a tinge of disappointment, even though he could understand the boy´s sentiments. There was no way of forcing Malfoy into this, as he was perfectly aware of.

"Well," the Headmaster had eventually said, "if you are quite sure about it, I am going to leave for now." He had made to get up, but Draco, who had been struggling with himself, had said "Wait."

Dumbledore had hesitated.

Draco had sought his gaze again, warily: "You need to know, don´t you?" he whispered. "You need to know everything..." "Yes, dear boy," Dumbledore had replied kindly. "I do if I am supposed to react to this monstrosity."

Draco had swallowed hard, wishing to curl up and disappear; he had never given Dumbledore much positive thought before now, as his father had taught him to despise the Headmaster, but he could see the honesty in the brilliant blue eyes, and something akin to compassion.

And he had suddenly known, just like he had known that his only option had been to turn to Potter, that he could trust the old man.

"Do it then," he had therefore said, still barely audible. "Because I could never tell you otherwise."

Dumbledore had considered him for a moment, his expression unfathomable, before he nodded: "Very good," he had said. "I do understand what this means. Be assured that it is highly appreciated."

"Sir," Draco had begun, weakly, "please... do not show it to Harry..."

Dumbledore had nodded again, and had given him a sad smile in order to reassure him. He had hardly been able to believe that this was the same boy who had usually worn a sneer on his face whenever he had seen him.

-

After Dumbledore had witnessed what had initiated the change in Draco however, he felt like weeping.

No one should have to undergo such torment, especially not by his own kin. The old man was by no means a stranger to grief, horror or malignity, but it still distressed him greatly that Voldemort´s followers did not rank behind their master in their unscrupulous ways.

He had not expected any humanity left in the Dark Lord, but to see these people behave like savage beasts was truly scary.

He looked down on the sleeping Draco and took a shaky breath: it seemed that he had begun to change his mind indeed. He had persevered remarkably well, after all, and had not yielded to betray Harry even though it would have ended his ordeal.

-

The Headmaster was talking to Harry while Madam Pomfrey assessed Draco once more. She seemed a little cross and had conjured up the white hospital curtain once more, effectively hiding herself and Draco from view.

Harry could tell that Dumbledore was shaken. The old wizard looked at him seriously: "I will not reveal the details about Mr Malfoy´s imprisonment," he said gravely. "It seems however that he has truly turned from the path his father had chosen for him even before he had been born."

He told Harry about the "job" Malfoy had refused to take on, thus protecting Harry, how Lucius had eventually rejected his son and how Draco had managed to escape.

Harry was stricken: "It´s my fault then, " he murmured, glancing over to the curtain.

"No, it isn´t," Dumbledore replied. "And I wouldn´t have told you about it if I had thought it were. I have told you once that we have to decide between what is right and what is easy. It seems that Mr Malfoy has chosen right over easy in the end."

Harry still felt bad about it; he would never have expected Draco to behave like that, he had always struck him rather as a coward who was only good at hiding behind people and let others do the dirty work.

"It still doesn´t explain why he has come here," he finally managed to say.

Dumbledore´s eyes twinkled: "Doesn´t it?" he said. "I think it is quite clear, Harry."

Harry looked down on his hands, not knowing how to reply.

The Headmaster however had another thing on his mind: "What has happened to Draco´s cloak?" he asked. Harry looked around, for the first time thinking about that: "Erm... I don´t know, actually."

"I took care of it," Madam Pomfrey´s voice rang out from behind the curtain. "It´s in the wardrobe."

Agape, Harry stared at the white material shielding her from view. Of course, that made sense.

A part of the Healer´s face appeared now, looking at him amusedly: "It doesn´t seem you are actually using it," she quipped, "otherwise you might have noticed." Harry blushed; he was indeed not using the wardrobe because he did not want to risk forgetting anything. He didn´t trust Dudley to not destroy anything which came into his hands.

Dumbledore smiled: "Very good, Poppy. I think I will take it with me. The Portkey should still be in one of its pockets."

Harry´s eyes widened as he realized what that meant: "So you can find out where he´s been," he murmured.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered, his face turning serious again. "It might be of help."

-

"I would ask you to stay by his side until he wakes," Madam Pomfrey had instructed Harry before leaving. "Just in case there are any after effects from the Legilimency."

Thus Harry had sat down on the bed with "Quidditch Through The Ages"; it was one of his favourite books and always helped him to relax.

This time, however, he found himself staring at Draco mostly, wondering about him. He was still looking ill and mangled, though the bruises on his face were starting to fade.

To hell and back, Harry thought, judging from Dumbledore´s expression after he had used the Pensieve; it seemed to suit Draco´s situation rather well.

Harry was actually glad that he had been spared to watch Draco´s torment in the Pensieve; he still had his own memories to deal with, and it was tough enough to see the Slytherin suffering from the aftermath alone.

He kept thinking about Draco´s reason to come to Privet Drive, though. For Dumbledore it seemed clear, but Harry could not believe that it was a reason so simple: had Draco sought his help because he actually trusted Harry?

Rubbish, he told himself. Respect, perhaps, in some twisted and strange way, but trust? Trust that he would be able to defend himself and Draco maybe.

He sighed; there was no way to find out unless he asked, was there? He would have to wait, as usual.

-

When the sleeping boy began to stir, Harry laid his hand on his shoulder to let him know he was there, and applied gentle pressure.

Draco looked at Harry groggily for a while after he had opened his eyes. He only became agitated when he remembered the talk with Dumbledore. Harry sought to reassure him: "It is over already... you are okay, Draco. You are all right..."

Reassured, Draco closed his eyes again. He vaguely remembered another person´s presence in his mind, effortly transcending his countermures, if not actually breaching them. He could sense that it did not intend to hurt him, but it felt like being conquered nevertheless.

He felt exhausted now, as if he had played Chess for days. Sleep was very welcome.

-

He awoke in the evening; Harry was still sitting next to him, having dozed off himself. His book had slid from his knees and his mouth had fallen open, but his hand was still resting on Draco´s shoulder.

The Slytherin reached up and gently tugged at it, as the position Harry was in did not look very comfortable.

With a small grunt, Harry woke up. He blinked: "Wha- oh." He grinned sheepishly and stretched: "How about dinner?" "Good idea," Draco murmured. His appetite had not come back yet, but his stomach felt unpleasantly empty.

Harry scrambled off the bed; he let Hedwig out, then turned to the door: "Back in a sec..."

Draco wondered wether Dumbledore had been true to his word and not shown Harry the memories he had extracted from the Slytherin. Would Harry disdain him if he saw that Draco had not been able to defend himself? Draco then berated himself for such thoughts- Harry Potter had disdained him for as long as they had known each other, and for reasons Draco was ashamed of thinking about now.

Harry came back with deliciously smelling stew and rolls. His aunt had indeed borne in mind what Madam Pomfrey had recommended, if grudgingly so.

They ate slowly, relishing the good food; Harry had brought tea and cake for dessert. The tea had only cooled off a little under the tea cozy, and when they had finished, Draco felt satisfyingly full as he lay back onto the pillow.

Harry put the tray aside and regarded Draco with a quite unreadable expression, if unintentionally. He had yet to comprehend the fact that the Slytherin and founder of the I-hate-Harry-club for some reason had protected him.

Draco paled under Harry´s scrutiny, misinterpreting it: "You didn´t... " he croaked, "He promised me..."

Harry quickly slid down next to him so that they were face to face: "No. I was outside the whole time," he said. "Dumbledore keeps his promises."

The look of relief on Draco´s sunken features was so profound that Harry couldn´t but wonder why it mattered so much wether he had seen it or not.

But Draco answered this unspoken question a moment later: "It´s been... so humiliating..." he whispered. "I felt so helpless..."

"I know," Harry wanted to say, but then didn´t. He had not been raped, after all, that made a huge difference.

He reached up to lay his hand over Draco´s instead: "I think you have been very brave," he said softly. "It would have been easy for you to turn me in and save yourself."

Draco´s eyes widened: "Y-you... you know?"

"Dumbledore didn´t tell me much, only what he considered necessary," Harry replied. "I guess he wanted me to understand..." He broke off.

Draco´s eyes lingered on him: "I´m not brave..." he murmured. "I just- wanted to nettle Lucius."

It took Harry a moment to realize that the last part was meant to be a joke, but he also sensed the truth behind it.

Draco had indeed chosen right over easy. Harry would have loved to know why, what had compelled the Slytherin to question his formerly highly valued pureblood family, but he felt he had no right to ask, at least not now.

"I guess it worked," Harry said, trying to lighten the mood further: "You have some experience with that, after all. Ferret."

Draco smiled faintly: "Just had a bad day back then, is all." "No, you didn´t," Harry teased. "You just didn´t see it coming!"

They looked at each other, trying to recall their former mutual animosity. It seemed far away and ridiculous, seemed to have nothing to do with their current selves.

"Do you reckon it will be different from now on?" Harry couldn´t but ask.

Draco shrugged minutely: "I would hope so," he said softly. "I don´t want to go on bullying people... I am really ashamed for how I behaved." His face fell.

"Hey," Harry redirected Draco´s gaze on his own:"You have at least realized it," he stated equally softly."You have seen that you were wrong, and are willing to change that. Not many people would."

Draco drew a shaky breath: "Yes, but- what do you reckon will happen at school? I´m still in Slytherin... and the others..." he didn´t need to finish the sentence for Harry to understand what he was thinking.

"It won´t be easy," he said honestly. He could vividly imagine what Draco very probably was going to have to go through, and why the Slytherin dreaded it; he himself had suffered from public disdain as well after all and knew how hard it could be on you.

"And what if I am too weak... if I fall back into my old behaviour..." Draco´s voice was flat now.

"What are you afraid of?" Harry asked gently. "Of the people or yourself?"

Draco didn´t answer anymore. He closed his eyes, too worn out to deal with these emotions now.

-

Although he was precoccupied with worries about the future, Draco slept quietly through the night.

After Madam Pomfrey had left in the following morning, he closed his eyes again and slept some more.

He hardly talked to Harry when he woke up in the early afternoon but appeared rather broody. His voice was subdued whenever the Gryffindor tried to engage him in a conversation; Harry assumed that Draco was doubting his ability to cope with the further developments, whatever they were going to look like, and watched him closely.

Draco had curled in on himself for the rest of the day, vainly hoping to escape his thoughts.

-

That night however, his nightmares returned with a vengeance.

He could feel their hands on his body, could feel pain surging through him, and then a shadowy figure approached, having long blond hair and red snake-like eyes, holding a chain... he backed away from it, whimpering, but found he couldn´t move, as something was there holding him, more Death Eaters, more enemies...

And then a voice penetrated the loud rush of blood in his ears, telling him to calm down, and he realized that the hands holding him were not hurting him.

As the darkness surrounding him diminished, he recognized the voice and allowed it to take over, to guide him back to reality.

He found himself in a small, dark bedroom with Harry Potter, who was talking to him soothingly, and suddenly didn´t mind anymore that Harry knew what had happened to him, as it meant he didn´t have to pretend he was all right when he wasn´t.

He struggled to regain his breath and finally lay still as he felt Harry´s hand stroking his hair and shoulder; this didn´t even strike the Gryffindor as awkward anymore, he was just glad that the Slytherin responded to his attempts to get him out of his frenzied state.

Draco eventually grabbed Harry´s hand and held it tight, needing the contact. In opposite to Harry, he had always had someone to comfort him, either his parents or his stuffed toy dragon. He wondered about that and where it might be right now; it had been very soft and cuddly, and in the end severely loved off.

-

He awoke two more times that night, sweating and trembling. Each time Harry was there, and each time Draco tried to fight off the other´s hands af first before he found back to reality.

With a patience he did not know he possessed Harry tucked him back in every time, drawing the blankets up to Draco´s chin to make him feel safe.

Harry finally lay back on his own pillow and fell asleep soon, tired from having been woken repeatedly

He dreamed confusing stuff; people were weaving in and out of his sight while he was walking down a dark corridor, his wand at the ready. He wanted to reach the far end because he knew something was waiting for him there, but then he heard a whimper, it was calling him back... and he knew he had to go for it, thus he turned and followed the sound until he had found its source: it was Draco, lying with his back to Harry on the cold ground, and he was shaking.

Harry tried to reach out to him, but he couldn´t touch him for some reason, knowing that this was Malfoy... and then he suddenly was awake, and the whimper was right there, next to him.

Harry shoved the remnants of his dream aside and inched closer to Draco; unlike in the dream, he did not hesitate to touch him, but slipped underneath his blanket and wrapped his arm around him just like he had done before, whispering soothing words of comfort.

Draco eventually calmed down; the warm body next to him provided a shield, and someone was there with him, someone who held him close and would not let them come near him ever again.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**

SweetSouthernGal: I hope it´s better like this! ; )


	8. Talk

_Dear reviewers_- I did have absolutely no time to respond since I´m so loaded with work,

and I reckoned you´d rather want the new chapter asap. Well, here it is and next time I´ll respond again!

For now let me just say: thanks for the support and kind words!

_Further note_: the text between the end-to-end lines is directly quoted from "Harry Potter

and the Order of the Phoenix" by J.K. Rowling of the Bloomsbury Edition from 2003

o

**-o-**

**Chapter 8: Talk**

**-o-O-o-**

It only now occured to Harry how easily he could have shared Draco´s fate if he hadn´t been able to escape from the graveyard the night of the Triwizard tournament. True, Voldemort had been intent on killing him, but who knew what else might have happened. Shuddering, the Gryffindor shook off the memory of being watched by the group of masked and hooded men, not even wanting to imagine what they had done to Draco.

As the days wore on, Harry and Draco settled into a kind of unspoken pattern; each night they huddled together, for that seemed the only means to keep the nightmares at bay. During daylight, Draco´s dreams usually weren´t as bad, but once it got dark did he become agitated as soon as he had closed his eyes.

His physical injuries were healing well, as Madam Pomfrey confirmed. They had taken a lot longer to heal than they normally would have, since they had been mended in between and then cruelly been replicated. Draco was allowed to sit up after a week, and was glad about it since it meant he could read to take his mind off the things that were haunting him.

Harry did not possess many books and neither did Dudley, thus he asked Madam Pomfrey if she could be of any help there, and she returned with a stack of novels and books on Quidditch the following day. Dumbledore however had not sent word of how he was progressing with the investigation of the Portkey yet, and Harry found himself growing more and more impatiently by the minute.

They had not talked about the subject of their future schooldays again, since Draco seemed reluctant to delve into it; there were days on which he kept curling in on himself and hardly spoke to Harry at all, too weary to take on the world.

Harry didn´t push him; he and Malfoy had not been on friendly terms before, after all, and he didn´t want to risk what little trust was developing between them.

It was hard for Draco to be unable to show more strength; he knew he was pathetic, acting like a child, but curling up came next to hiding, which was what he felt like doing on those days, because he felt so hurt, so helpless. In the following nights he always had to restrain himself not to press against Harry with all his might and cling to him out of sheer anguish when the Gryffindor joined him in bed; he did not want to repel Harry with his defencelessness.

Harry however took matters in his own hands on such occasions, since he realized that Draco was close to cracking up on those days, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it, and usually nestled against him with one arm around Draco´s slender midriff. At first Harry had tried to imagine it was someone else, a girl maybe, to make it feel less awkward, but he soon found it actually wasn´t necessary as he indeed liked it.

He told himself that this certainly was due to the general lack of cuddling he had had in his life, but then stopped that as well. He had to admit that it felt good to have Draco in his arms, and he often caught himself watching the blond boy while he was sleeping, feeling at peace.

He briefly wondered if that was normal, but on the other hand he asked himself wether it was normal to spend the entire summer in one small room, hiding from Lord Voldemort along with his former enemy.

He worried about his best friends; what would Ron and Hermione say if they knew about this?

-

His questions were about to be answered sooner than he would have imagined.

When Madam Pomfrey appeared the next time, Dumbledore accompanied her. He beckoned Harry over to the far side of the room, his eyes twinkling kindly even though he seemed unusually tense.

"Harry," he said quietly, "there is something I need to discuss with you two. I am going to wait until Poppy is done. In the meantime I am supposed to tell you hello from Ms Granger and Mr Weasley."

"Have you spoken to them?" Harry asked eagerly, "do they know?"

Dumbledore nodded: "I will tell you about them in a minute," he replied. "But first..." He raised his wand and seemed to cast a silencing spell around them, for suddenly Madam Pomfrey´s low voice became completely inaudible.

When he had made sure that they couldn´t be overheard, Dumbledore turned back to Harry: "Let me explain a few things to you before we get back to the subject of your friends. There have been a few new developments..."

Harry hardly believed his ears when Dumbledore told him about the Order of the Phoenix and Grimmauld Place; on the one hand, it sounded too good to be true, since something was happening at last, a palpable effort to fight Voldemort, but on the other hand he felt thoroughly left out. Staying in Privet Drive was like being cut off the wizarding world anyway, and this made it even worse. If anyone should know about Voldemort´s proceedings, it was him, wasn´t it?

The range of emotions he was experiencing clearly showed on his face, and Dumbledore leaned forward: "Harry," he said, "I know you would rather have come and joined the rest of us in our Headquarters, but there is a reason for your being safer here than anywhere else." "Yes," Harry said defiantly, "there must be, if it is even safe enough to hide Draco here. I was wondering about that."

A sad smile played across Dumbledore´s features: "I am aware of how the Dursleys have treated you, Harry," he said kindly. "There was no other place for you to go, however, as incredible as this might sound. I was sure that Voldemort would return at some point, and that he would want to see you dead, to complete what he couldn´t accomplish before." He sighed, shaking his head a little:

* * *

"I knew that Voldemort´s knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power. But I knew, too, where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated- to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother´s blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."

"She doesn´t love me," said Harry at once. "She doesn´t give a damn-"

"But she took you," Dumbledore cut across him. "She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother´s sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you."

"I still don´t-"

"While you can still call home the place where your mother´s blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need to return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, whilst you are there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years."

* * *

Harry considered this for a while, unable to express his feelings other than clenching his hands into fists. Once more it hit him how Voldemort had destroyed everything for him, and how he was still interfering with Harry´s life. He felt utterly helpless right now, wanting Voldemort dead but being unable to do anything because he had to hide, hide with people who considered him abnormal and couldn´t have cared less about the wizarding world. He snorted at the irony of this.

Dumbledore eyed him benignly; when Harry finally looked at him again, he smiled: "Your friends have been asking for you on a daily basis," he said, seeking to becalm Harry. The boy exhaled forcefully, but listened nevertheless.

"Both of them demanded to know why you hadn´t been writing to them," the Headmaster continued. "They sensed that something was going on, and I finally decided to tell them about Mr Malfoy."

Harry could well imagine their different reactions to this- Hermione would look simply alarmed, whereas Ron would be flasterghasted. He could almost hear his best friend´s voice: "Malfoy? The _Ferret_?" He subconsciously grinned at this.

Dumbledore´s eyes twinkled as he spoke: "They both seemed reluctant to believe you had agreed to this, but after I had depicted the extent of the situation, they were rather stricken by what has happened to Mr Malfoy."

Harry blinked: "They were?"

Dumbledore confirmed this with a nod: "Does it astonish you, Harry? Ms Granger and Mr Weasley seem close enough to you to unconditionally trust you, therefore they also trust your judgement."

"My judgement," Harry murmured with a sinking feeling. "Things are changing between Draco and me, Professor. I agreed to keep him here because it was so obvious he couldn´t go anywhere else, and I felt for him despite our... despite... even though we used to loathe each other. But now I don´t know... he is so different, and I find it hard not to... not to like him. I am not sure if Ron and Hermione will understand that as well. They haven´t seen him like this." He fell silent.

Dumbledore assessed him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles: "I am confident that you will be able to do justice to all three of them, Harry," he said calmly. "Even if it might take some time."

"So... do you think it´s all right if Draco and I become friends, sort of?"

"Oh, yes, by all means" Dumbledore said. "A person should always be given a second chance, in my opinion."

Harry was about to reply when the Headmaster looked over him to Madam Pomfrey, who had gotten up and packed her bag. With a flick of his wand he ended the silencing charm.

"I will be going then," the Healer said, smiling at Harry before Disapparating.

-

Dumbledore and Harry moved over to the bed. Draco was sitting up, looking slightly more pale after the examination. He looked uneasily from one to the other as they sat down; the Headmaster on the edge of the bed, Harry cross-legged on the mattress next to Draco.

"How are you feeling, Mr Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked kindly, though Harry noticed that he still looked tense.

"I´m getting better, thanks," Draco said a little nervously.

"I have meanwhile examined the Portkey," Dumbledore said. "It turns out that you have come from Malfoy Manor."

Draco paled even more. Harry thought it was terrible to see how the colour drained from his face: "M-Malfoy Manor?" he repeated in a whisper. "But... those dungeons..."

"Are part of the house," Dumbledore confirmed. "From the information I was able to gather it was built upon the ruins of another stately home. They might well have derived from back then."

"I didn´t know," Draco murmured, drooping his head. Harry tentatively touched his hand to reassure him while the Headmaster continued: "I was also able to identify who had put the Portus charm on the stone." Both boys looked up at this, curious to know who had given his life to save Draco.

"His name was Thorfinn Rowle," Dumbledore said quietly. Draco averted his eyes, feeling too confused to answer; he had only seen Rowle on a few occasions, had never even exchanged a word with him until that night in the cell. He was grateful to a certain extent, but on the other hand it had taken the man a week to act, a week during which Draco had gone through hell, and who knew if Rowle hadn´t participated in the raping before his conscience had told him that it wasn´t right?

Apart from that, he felt a pang of disappointment- there had been others which he had known for a long time, whose children he had played with and whom he had trusted. If he was honest with himself, a small part of him had hoped that it had been his father. He would have been dead then, but at least he would have shown mercy at last, would have shown something akin to feelings.

While Draco was still processing this, he felt Harry´s hand against his once more; the Gryffindor´s fingers wound around his own and held on to them, and Draco immediately tightened his grip around them.

Dumbledore gave him some time to recover before he spoke again: "Is there anything you would like to ask me?"

Draco only found his voice after several attempts to speak: "What will happen now?" he asked. "Are you- are you going to... I mean, is there anything... "

"That is one of the reasons why I have come here," Dumbledore replied. "Even though we now know where Voldemort and his followers are gathering, there is nothing we can do right now. You see, most people do not yet believe he really has come back-" he smiled sadly at the disbelieving expressions in both Draco´s and Harry´s face, "thus there is only a limited amount of those who do. Too limited indeed to wage a war. It seems that the Ministry is against us, and there are other forces at work who undermine what little credibility we have."

"_What_?" demanded Harry, upset and unable to contain himself. "How can that be? I was there, wasn´t I? I fought you know who, and Cedric-" he felt himself beginning to shake, "you told them, didn´t you? You told them in unmistakable terms what had happened, and yet- have them ask Draco, for Merlin´s sake!"

Dumbledore raised his hand appeasingly: "Harry- there is no need to yell at me. I am not the one who needs convincing. Yet I am powerless to prevent what is happening right now. The Daily Prophet is writing all sorts of discrediting stuff about me- and even about you."

"Me?" Harry felt his face grow hot.

"They are trying to make it look like you are only seeking attention and I am just an old fool." Dumbledore´s voice was dry, yet he looked very serious.

Harry stared at him unseeingly, taken aback by these news: "Brilliant," he then said bluntly, "just brilliant. What are we going to do now?"

He barely realized that Draco´s hand slipped out of his, as his mind was reeling: "Professor," he said, rubbing his eyes, "there must be something we can do!"

The Headmaster´s attention however was directed at the Slytherin. Harry followed his gaze and saw that Draco was hugging himself again, visibly shaking and ashen-faced.

"Draco," Harry reached out, but when he touched him, the blond boy flinched: "They are winning," he muttered tonelessly, "they are gaining control..." "Draco, look at me," Harry said with a gentle yet firm voice: "Look at me, please. They are not, do you hear me? They are not and never will be! There will always be people fighting against them, no matter how limited their numbers are, people who will not let them regain power! _I_ will not let them!"

Draco´s panicked expression softened after a while, and the shaking abated. He believed Harry, Dumbledore realized with mild surprise. He had assumed Draco to be able to trust Harry, but he had not expected that the Gryffindor would have this much power over the Slytherin. It truly was interesting how things were developing, he mused.

-

"Nothing is decided yet," Dumbledore said after a while. "The sad truth is that the human mind usually wants proof before it believes in something. I do however have another issue we need to address, concerning the coming school year."

Draco and Harry exchanged a nervous glance.

The Headmaster´s voice was calm: "I have always insisted that Hogwarts is a safe place for her students, and have always strived for it to remain so. The Ministry however is determined to interfere, and I am afraid I will not be able to hold them off if things develop any further. Not without endangering a lot of people."

He looked at Draco: "Regarding the latest developments, I fear for your safety in particular. Many of your fellow Slytherins are children of the Death Eaters you have just escaped from, like yourself. As soon as you set foot in the school, they´ll know you have survived and where to find you. While I will do everything in my power to keep Hogwarts a safe place, I fear we wouldn´t be able to protect you one-hundred percent, thus I have come up with another idea: we will use Polyjuice Potion to disguise you and have you sorted into Gryffindor."

For a moment, nobody spoke- on the contrary, all that could be heard was a sharp intake of breath from two people.

Harry found his speech first: "But- how? Won´t it be noticed that there suddenly is an additional student in the fifth year? Or do you plan to disguise him as a first- year?"

"That would be quite inefficient, wouldn´t it, seeing as he has to prepare for his OWLs and besides would attract attention if he spent time with you," Dumbledore reasoned. "No, he will disguise himself as a fifth- year. To diminish the risk, we will have an Auror disguising himself as his twin brother. Thus, he´ll not only have a good disguise but a personal bodyguard as well."

Harry thought that Draco looked stunned. Having to disguise himself for a whole year was risky and slightly unnerving, but it seemed the only solution if he wanted to return to Hogwarts. Subconsciously, the blond boy smiled a little: "That sounds doable," he said.

Dumbledore sighed: "I agree, and I am glad you consent to it. I will have Severus beginning to prepare the Potion immediately, seeing as it is rather complex to produce."

Harry and Draco spoke simultaneously: "Snape?"

The Headmaster raised his eyebrows: "Yes, _Professor_ Snape indeed, " he repeated. "Why?"

This time, Draco was faster to answer than Harry, and he did it with an obvious effort: "I- I thought he was... you know, I thought he might have been... present. At the Manor."

Dumbledore assessed him with an unfathomable expression: "He wasn´t there," he said quietly. "His whereabouts are accounted for the whole time."

At this, Draco relaxed visibly. Harry opened his mouth and closed it again, perplexed until he remembered that Snape was in the Order of the Phoenix as well. And Dumbledore seemed to trust him, something he still couldn´t quite comprehend.

The Headmaster now straightened up: "We will determine the specifics of our plan later; right now you should get some rest and stomach all the new information. I presume you will have questions later."

He got up, giving both of them a resassuring smile, and with a swish of his robes and the obligatory loud crack a second later was gone.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	9. Help Me

_Hey all!_ It took a little longer to update this time, since my general workload hasn´t abated, I´m afraid,

and that´s quite a strain especially if you know how many people are on story alert. =)

Here´s the new chapter however, enjoy!

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**-o-  
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**Chapter 9: Help Me  
**

**-o-O-o-**

Wordlessly, Harry stretched out next to Draco and stared at the ceiling; he was still shaking, and his scar tingled.

Draco could see the muscles in his jaw working relentlessly, a sign that Potter was upset. He had seen him like this many times as a matter of fact, the Gryffindor´s anger often and deliberately caused by himself as he had to admit.

Harry´s mind was reeling. How could people believe he was lying, how could they consider Dumbledore a nutcase after all he had done and achieved? How many more people would Voldemort have to maim, torture and kill before his return would be acknowledged, how many more families would he need to destroy?

Seething, Harry sat up again; he felt so helpless, he wanted to do something and yet couldn´t. Cedric´s face swam into his mind, unseeing eyes staring blindly into nothingness, and yet he could hear the Hufflepuff´s voice: _Take my body back to my parents_... He realized that his eyes were swimming and snorted disbelievingly; they were not going to make him cry!

He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his eyes in a helpless gesture of frustration when he felt a hand on his shoulder, tentatively yet comforting. Harry pushed his glasses back on, dropped his hand and just sat there, slightly hunched forward, allowing himself to be comforted by the other´s presence.

It was still hard to believe that people thought he was a liar, he, the boy who lived. It was still hard to believe that it was Draco Malfoy´s hand which was squeezing his shoulder comfortingly, and which felt really good.

Draco could only guess how disappointed Harry must be, how feeling rejected by a society he had saved from being taken over by the dark forces many years before must hurt him. Still he felt bad for him, but didn´t know what to say- what words of comfort were there for someone whose entire life had been determined by one evil soul? How could Draco ever have wanted to support someone so hateful and loathsome as Lord Voldemort?

Shame flushed his cheeks as he looked at Harry; the way he was sitting there, thin shoulders hunched, made him looking defeated, tired of having to battle, yet when he turned round and looked at Draco a few moments later, his features rather struck the blond boy as defiant: "I will not let them," he repeated fiercely, as if there hadn´t been a pause in conversation.

Draco took a deep breath to shake off his trepidation: "I will help you," he said quietly, yet his words seemed to ring out through the room. "If you´ll let me."

Harry considered him with blazing eyes, then nodded: "Good," he said before lying back down and resuming to stare at the ceiling.

And Draco suddenly yearned to take him into his arms. It didn´t at first occur to him that this had nothing to do with being scared or needing to be comforted, but that he simply wanted to be close to Harry.

-

When it finally did, a few hours later, Harry had fallen asleep over his brooding, and Draco had been reading until he was tired. He had lain back down and cautiously turned onto his side so as not to wake Harry, finding himself face to face with the Gryffindor who had rolled onto his side as well.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread in his belly as he watched the thin face with the visible bruise on the left temple, testimony of the fight with his uncle, and Draco once more felt the desire to touch Harry.

He blushed, ashamed for these emotions, and chided himself. He had known that he was rather fancying boys than girls for a while now, but had never really made an advance to explore it further, as he knew it didn´t befit a Malfoy to be... well, gay.

He had thus dated Pansy, much to his distaste, and rather because he felt it was being expected of him.

Maybe some things had just never occurred to him. Potter... very slowly and gingerly did his hand approach Harry´s, which was lying in front of the other boy´s face. He didn´t want to wake him, wanted to have this moment to himself. His fingers brushed over Harry´s, savouring the contact, down to his wrist. It was thin as well- or rather, delicate.

Harry sighed in his sleep, causing Draco to pause. When the other lay still again, his hand crawled forward until it came to rest next to Harry´s chin, and that´s where it stopped.

He didn´t dare to go on, didn´t dare to be caught in case Harry woke up- as much as he hated to admit it did only Harry make him feel safe, safer than Dumbledore and all the rest together. He couldn´t lose that.

He didn´t want Potter to think he was a pathetic fag. And apart from that- he was soiled now, wasn´t he? He couldn´t possibly expect anyone so... pure at heart to even consider getting involved with him, not after all that had been done to him during his captivity.

Downhearted, he pulled his hand back and curled up into a ball; maybe he didn´t deserve to hope at all, he thought, as he would never be able to show as much courage as Harry and fight for his beliefs. How was he supposed to help Harry if he couldn´t even help himself? What was he supposed to do?

-

When Harry woke up in the next morning the first thing that crossed his mind was that he was spending a lot of time asleep lately. The second thing was that Draco was gone. The bed next to him was empty. Alarmed, Harry shot up and groped around for his glasses, which he found next to his pillow.

He had already scrambled to his feet and his wand at the ready when he realized that Draco was there, sitting on the floor next to Harry´s desk. With two steps Harry was beside him and crouched down: "Draco? Are you all right? What happened?"

Malfoy shot him an unexpectedly dark look: "I got up to let your owl in. And then I couldn´t go on. And now I´m sitting here, idling." He averted his gaze and grumpily muttered something about stupid useless legs under his breath.

Harry almost laughed with relief: "Why did you get up at all?" he asked and got to his feet. "You could´ve woken me. I´m surprised Hedwig didn´t."

"I thought I could manage," Draco said, blushing, as Harry pulled him to his feet, and swayed alarmingly until the Gryffindor firmly supported him with both arms, "besides I was fed up with lying around. And I´m feeling much better already."

Harry glanced at him, surprised by his defiant tone. This was not the Draco he had shared his bed with lately, yet it wasn´t the old one either.

"Do you think you can walk?" he asked and cautiously reinforced his grip.

"´Course," Draco muttered exasperatedly, "I´m not bloody invalid."

The way he clung to Harry and the look of relief on his face when they reached the bed however belied his words. The short excursion had been enough to make him tremble visibly with exertion after he had sat down.

Harry thought he knew where this sudden resolve was coming from: "Draco," he said quietly. "There is no reason to force yourself. We can´t do anything right now anyway."

Draco, still trembling not only from the effort but also because Harry had been so close and had felt so amazingly good, looked at him frustratedly: "I need to get back on my feet," he said in a low voice. "I can´t be this helpless."

Harry sat down next to him; he could well relate to this feeling, but didn´t want to encourage Draco to overexcert himself further: "You aren´t," he said. "You´ve got people to protect you, remember?"

Rather than giving a snide retort as Harry would have expected him to do under normal circumstances, Draco suddenly looked crestfallen: "Yes..." he said feebly and all of a sudden seemed to sag. He subconsciously began hugging himself again.

Harry, wondering if he had missed something, took hold of Draco´s hands and gingerly pried them away from himself to make the Slytherin look at him: "What´s the real reason, then?" he asked quietly.

Just at that moment, however, a loud crack announced the arrival of Madam Pomfrey, effectively interrupting them.

The Hogwarts Healer immediately realized that something was wrong, yet had no way of knowing what had transpired and thus looked at Harry enquiringly. He shook his head minutely; he sensed that Draco did not wish to discuss this issue in front of anyone else, even someone as kind as Poppy Pomfrey.

He gave Draco´s still clenched hands a gentle squeeze before he let go and allowed the Healer to take over.

-

He went to make breakfast in the meantime; the Dursleys were already up, completely ignoring his presence when he came in, only Vernon was glaring daggers at him from behind his newspaper. Dudley pointedly avoided his gaze, his face flushed.

They were finishing their breakfast just as Harry was about to leave the kitchen with a tray, and Harry couldn´t help himself thinking that they would presumably have loved for him to trip over something, despite the mess it would have made. This probably was the only time Petunia regretted not to have a cat, Harry mused darkly.

When Harry reentered his room, Madam Pomfrey was just closing her bag. "He´s a little unsettled, dear," she said and cast a worried glance over her shoulder; Draco was lying on his side with his back to them, not curled up but in a tense posture nevertheless, his shoulders hunched and his hands clenched into fists once more.

"I have given him a potion to calm his nerves, it will need a few minutes to take effect. Would you rather I stayed for a while?"

Harry shook his head: "No, thank you. I think I´ll be able to handle it. Did he say anything?"

Madam Pomfrey eyed him sadly: "Barely a word. Do bear in mind that the trauma he has suffered has very likely not abated yet," she said in an undertone. "He is still in a state of shock, even though he tries to hide it."

Harry nodded: "I have guessed as much," he said equally low. "He cannot control his dreams, after all. But he seems to trust me."

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey smiled. "He does."

Harry seemed confident enough, thus the matron was reassured. She left him a little of the sedative draught she had used earlier on Draco, though, in case the Slytherin was having another panic attack.

When Madam Pomfrey had Disapparated, Harry set the tray down and resumed his former seat on the edge of the bed.

"Draco," he said tentatively, wondering what had happened that had escaped his attention. "I´ve got breakfast."

Draco didn´t respond; he just lay still, with his eyes closed and his face white.

Harry gently laid one hand on his shoulder; he could feel that the blond boy was still trembling, but other than that, he didn´t react. After what might have been ten minutes, the trembling had not diminished in the least.

So Harry, thinking that Draco was really caught up in a bad dream 24/7, crawled onto the mattress and stretched out behind him before he cautiously slid his arms around the other boy and pulled him against his chest: "It will be okay," he soothed very quietly. "I´m here. You will be fine."

Draco however seemed to tremble even more at this: "W-what if I – I´ll m-mess up?" he asked, shaking so badly that his words were barely understandable, "what if I´m useless?"

Harry, though glad to have gotten a reaction at last, did not understand: "What do you mean?"

Draco sounded desperate: "I w-want to help... but if I c-can´t, you´ll d-despise me," he whispered, "you´ll send m-me away. Only I d-don´t know w-where to go..."

And then it dawned on Harry. Draco was afraid to fail, was afraid that the people who were helping him right now might abandon him, and he would have no one else left to turn to.

Harry´s stomach gave a funny jolt at these words: "Do you really think so low of me?" he asked softly, aghast at the extent of Malfoy´s fear. The thin body was still shaking, and Harry could distinctly feel Draco´s ribs as he cradled him close.

"I d-don´t," Draco whispered brokenly, "but y-you have all the reason to think l-low of m-me."

After a moment´s hesitation, Harry gingerly reinforced his grip, curling around Draco as much as he dared in order not to unsettle him further or hurt him: "Do you reckon I would be here with you, like this, if I still thought low of you?" he replied quietly.

Draco didn´t answer. Harry could see that there were tears streaming down his face, thus he fell silent as well; gradually, Draco´s trembling abated as the mixture of the potion and Harry kicked in, and as he relaxed, the warm weight of his body pressing against Harry´s increased.

"W-why are you here, like this?" Draco asked very softly once he was calm. Harry subdued a sigh, as they had been over this before after all, but he knew that Draco in his current state of mind needed a lot of reassurance before he would believe that he was not as despicable as he thought.

Those Death Eaters had properly messed with his mind in addition to brutalizing his body, Harry thought. And apart from that, they had been enemies, after all. What had happened to both of them seemed to have redeemed this, however... both of them had suffered at the hands of either Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

To think that Draco´s father was one of them and had participated in torturing his son was equally dreadful than remembering his own experience at the graveyard.

He remembered Voldemort´s voice, and the Death Eaters´ cold, unblinking gazes from behind their masks, watching... with an effort he pulled his thoughts away from them.

"Because I believe you when you say that you are sorry," he replied at last, unable to put his other feelings into words. "And we haven´t bitten each other´s head off so far, have we?"

"No..." Draco´s voice was almost tranquil now, and he was nestled against the Gryffindor comfortably, therefore Harry was taken by surprise when he next spoke, his words barely audible: "I´m glad..."

For some reason, Harry felt himself smile at this. A happiness he hadn´t expected due to all that was preoccupying him at the moment was spreading within him as he lay there with Draco in his arms. Rather confused by this, Harry asked himself wether he should be feeling awkward, as he had the overwhelming wish to nuzzle his nose against the delicate skin of Draco´s neck and _really_ snuggle up with him, but for some reason he didn´t even blush at the thought.

He restrained himself however, not wanting to scare the other.

-

The next few days saw Draco a little more steady. It was slowly sinking in that he wouldn´t have to return to Slytherin house, which was a great relief, but at the same time he was worrying about having to pretend to be someone else, and what would happen if someone found out.

Whenever these thoughts grew too oppressive, however, Harry was there, reassuring him and telling him he would be fine.

Madam Pomfrey marveled at Harry´s ability to calm the Slytherin, and affirmed the good progress his injuries were making. The welts on his back as well as the numerous abrasions had scabbed over and were slowly turning into scar tissue. "I will put a water-repelling charm on them, then you may take a shower." she said one morning.

Draco´s eyes widened: "Am I allowed to get up then?"

"Only to go to the bathroom and take a shower," she said firmly. "And only with Mr Potter accompanying you!" Draco quickly nodded; he didn´t care if she babied him as long as he was allowed to shower. Even though Madam Pomfrey had used cleansing spells on him every day did he still feel dirty.

Harry however blanched a little when the Healer told him; misinterpreting this, she said sharply: "You _are_ allowed to use the shower, aren´t you?" "Yes," Harry said, catching himself. "Yes, I am."

"Good," she said, her expression unmistakably telling him what would have happened to the Dursleys otherwise.

Inwardly, Harry sighed; he didn´t begrudge Draco the right to shower, he just wasn´t sure how to handle it. Should he be in the bathroom with Draco, in case he´d collapse? Should he wait outside, which seemed ridiculous, lingering in the hallway as if he was queuing up?

He would just have to wait and see once more. Or not see, he couldn´t help adding and then feeling utterly stupid.

Madam Pomfrey took a small, peculiar looking item out of her bag and enlargened it until it was recognizable as a plastic stool, then she turned around to the bed: "Use this to sit on in the shower, dear, in case you feel dizzy."

Draco nodded, his face going slightly pink, reminding Harry of his remark a few days earlier about not being invalid. He certainly must feel so if the Healer assumed that he wouldn´t even be able to take a shower, but on the other hand was his body still awfully weak, a remainder of the severe mistreatment he had suffered.

Despite his initial embarassment, Draco was very eager to exploit this new freedom, but his face fell as soon as he heard someone walk by outside, being ungently reminded of Uncle Vernon.

"Don´t worry," Harry, who had guessed his thoughts, hastily reassured him. "We will wait until after breakfast, he will leave for work then."

He looked at Draco: "We should find you something other than the nightshirt to wear." He opened his trunk and rummaged around in it until he found a t-shirt and a pair of cotton track suit bottoms, both of which he deemed suitable because they were very comfortable if huge, having belonged to Dudley before.

As Draco watched him, his throat suddenly constricted: Harry never seemed to have had much in his life, and yet he seemed generous. He could feel the heat of shame flushing to his face once more. Harry misread this: "Sorry," he said awkwardly. "Most of my things are hand-me-downs, you know..."

"´s okay," Draco said around the lump in his throat. "I don´t mind, really. Th-thank you." It sounded honest, but Harry eyed him curiously nevertheless, wondering what was going on in Draco´s mind. He folded the sweater and the pants and only then realized that he had forgotten something: underwear.

This time, it was his turn to blush, as he fished a clean pair of pants out of the trunk as well and put them on top of the small pile. "Pants," he just said, his face flushed and his voice strangely high-pitched, eliciting a grin. It was in fact the first one Harry witnessed ever since Draco had arrived.

-

As soon as they heard the car backing out of the drive, Harry went to make sure the bathroom wasn´t occupied, and took the stool and the clothes with him so they´d be at hand. He could hear the TV downstairs and assumed that Dudley was watching his morning cartoons, thus the air was clear.

Draco scrambled out of bed and to his feet only to start swaying precariously once more, leaving Harry to wonder wether this was such a good idea. He supported the Slytherin with both hands until Draco was steady, the dizzy spell having worn off:"Ready?" "Yes."

Slowly, they made their way down the hall. Harry was relieved when they finally reached the bathroom, as was Draco, who sank onto the toilet with shaking knees, glad to be able to sit.

Harry put the stool into the tub and began to instruct Draco how to use the shower and how to adjust the temperature, since it was Muggle technology after all and Draco very probably had never handled anything similar, but the blond boy was looking at him evidently puzzled: "Won´t you stay here?" he asked in a small voice.

Harry was taken equally aback: "I thought you´d like some privacy," he said lamely. Draco gave him a feeble smile: "I... I´d rather not be alone in here." he replied in a low voice, sounding a little breathless.

"Oh. Okay." Harry was suddenly very aware of his hands and didn´t know where to put them, but Draco looked relieved and slowly got to his feet to undress.

With measured movements he pulled the nightshirt over his head while Harry leaned over the tub´s edge to turn the shower on.

When he turned back to Draco, the Slytherin was standing there naked, his arms wrapped around his body. In addition to his hands, Harry suddenly didn´t know what to do with his eyes, for he couldn´t but look at the blond boy: his body did not only look thin but mangled as well.

Most of the bruises had faded, but there were enough barely healed wounds to show what he had been through.

Harry helped Draco to step into the tub and pulled the shower curtain close, then sat down on the toilet.

Draco was actually grateful for the stool, for his knees felt like jelly and his legs were still shaking from the short walk down the hall.

The warm water on his skin felt heavenly. He closed his eyes and let it just run over his body for a while, enjoying the relaxing feeling, before starting to lather himself up cautiously.

The wounds were indeed repelling the water and the soap due to the charm Madam Pomfrey had used, but he could still feel the touch, which was rather unpleasant. He began to disperse a bit of shampoo in his hair, but it was no good: his arms were trembling violently after a moment, and he couldn´t go on.

But he had to, he had to get rid of the filth he had brought from the dungeons, it had to come off! Desperately, he tried again, but his arms were shaking so badly after a while that he could barely control his movements. Scrunching up his face, he considered his options: there wasn´t much of a choice.

He gathered himself and took a deep breath: "Harry?" he then said shakily. "I... could you help me, please?"

**--**

**To Be Continued**

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	10. You, and I

Here we go- I tried to be fast to make up for the cliffie! ;D

Thanks to those who sent PM´s about it- yep, there are currently 130 people on story alert.

Furthermore, thank you all for reading, and those who´ve reviewed have gotten my answers anyway. Hugs!

And now: enjoy!

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**-o-  
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**Chapter 10: You, and I  
**

**-o-O-o-**

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Harry started. "Are you okay?" he asked, alarmed by the uncertainty in Draco´s voice.

"Yeah...," came the answer, a little hesitantly and with a slightly quavering voice, "it´s just... I can´t wash my hair. My arms..." Draco broke off.

"Oh." Harry got up, rubbed his hands against his thighs nervously and sat down again: "Okay."

He took a deep breath and got up again, unsure why he was so jittery all of a sudden.

"H-harry?" Draco sounded timid.

"I´m. Er. Here." Harry pulled back the curtain.

The sight that greeted him made his heart beat faster: Draco´s hair was plastered to his head, accentuating his eyes and making them look huge: two spots of grey in an otherwise white landscape, for Draco´s face was pale and looked strangely translucent due to the water running over it.

He looked... fair, Harry thought, not noticing that he was getting wet from the spray.

Only when Draco, with a defeated gesture, made to give him the shampoo did Harry notice how the other´s arms were trembling.

"Are you okay?" he repeated, arriving back in reality. His hand closed around the plastic bottle, brushing over Draco´s fingers.

"Y-yes," Draco said in a small voice. "I just couldn´t keep my arms up long enough. I´m sorry... you´re all wet now."

Harry shrugged: "It doesn´t matter," he said and hoped it sounded as casually as he intended to.

He put the shampoo aside and stood on tiptoe, leaning forward and reaching up in order to adjust th

e shower head to direct the spray a little lower, so that he wouldn´t get soaked and Draco wouldn´t get cold, and unthinkingly put his hand on Draco´s shoulder to support himself.  
He could feel a tremor going through the body underneath his hand and quickly withdrew it in alarm: "Excuse me," he gasped, "I didn´t mean to hurt you!"

"You didn´t," Draco said hurriedly. "I- I liked it."

A rush of adrenaline ran through Harry; his heart beat even faster, and his hand seemed to prickle.

Utterly confused, he fumbled with the shampoo bottle: it took him an unusual amount of time to squeeze a sufficient amount of the creamy liquid out of it because his fingers were trembling for some reason.

Draco screwed his eyes shut when Harry didn´t answer, shaking again: he hadn´t meant to say that, it had just come out before he could stop himself. What had he done?

He half-expected Harry to walk away from him and leave the room, leave the pathetic , battered, gay boy behind, but a moment later, the hand returned, cautiously touching his shoulder.

The shaking abated, and Draco slowly opened his eyes again, inhaling deeply.

Harry numbly stared at Draco´s collarbone which was jutting out prominently due to the Slytherin´s skinniness, not exactly sure what he was doing, but gently moving his hand, which was resting on Draco´s shoulder lightly, towards it.

The blond boy shivered as Harry´s fingers ran along it, retracing it until its end and running over his neck towards his back. Harry´s blood was pounding in his ears, and he was breathless.

Draco´s skin felt delicate against his fingertips, and he could feel another tremor running through his body, a tremor that was echoed in his own.

His eyes strayed towards the welts on Draco´s back, and his heart clenched painfully, making him want to undo whatever had been done to him, to make him whole again.

He regretted that he wasn´t able to do so; all he could do was to comfort the other, make him feel safe... his fingers moved again, along the back of Draco´s neck and into his hair.

Only now did he realize that he still had a blob of shampoo in his other hand, and began to disperse it on top of Draco´s head, raking through his wet hair as he went. With both hands he gently began to massage the other´s skalp, applying pressure with his fingertips and moving them in varying circles.

Draco closed his eyes again. Shivers were running down his spine due to the pleasant sensations Harry´s hands caused, and seemed to pool in his belly where they spread out warm and fuzzily once more.

None of them had uttered a word, but Harry was treating him with great care, gently tipping his head back so as to prevent him from getting shampoo in his eyes, and it was more than he´d have expected.

He could relax; nothing would happen to him while Harry was there.

--

He had lost himself in a state of blissful relishing when Harry´s hands finally disappeared; a moment later, he could feel the hand on his shoulder again as Harry leaned forward once more, taking the shower head off its hook to rinse the shampoo out.

Still silently, Harry gently tipped Draco´s head back a little more; a great calmness had overcome him, and he knew that what he was doing was right.

When the last remnants of shampoo had vanished, Harry lowered his hand so that the warm water was running over Draco´s body once more, to prevent him from getting cold: "Are you ready to get out?" he asked, his voice strangely husky.

Draco nodded. Again the hand was on his shoulder as Harry put the shower head back and turned the water off: "I´ll get you a towel," he said quietly.

Draco felt bereft as the hand was being removed, but a moment later, he felt himself carefully wrapped into a large, soft towel, and slowly got to his feet.

Despite the fact that he was dripping water did Harry hold on to him firmly and helped him to step out of the tub, anxious to avoid that Draco slipped.

He didn´t let go of him immediately but made sure that he was steady on his feet, unaware that this rather caused Draco´s knees to feel like jelly.

When he was confident that the blond boy was okay, he took another towel and draped it over Draco´s head, trying to fix it somehow.

Draco just stood there, unsure how to react, dripping water on the bath mat and trembling all over due to Harry´s proximity.

When the Gryffindor had pulled back the shower curtain he had looked rather nervous, but that feeling seemed to have evaporated completely. He looked to be in charge now, busying himself with Draco´s well-being.

"There," he finally said, eyeing the result of his ministrations before he noticed that the other was trembling. "What is it?" he asked, his eyes finally meeting Draco´s.

Time seemed to slow down until it finally came to a mind-numbing standstill. The world around him fell away, and he felt a sudden jolt of warmth in his belly as his gaze came to rest upon the other´s.

The grey eyes weren´t simply two darker spots in an otherwise white landscape anymore, they were where the sum of Draco´s being met, the essence of his soul, and Harry suddenly recognized what they were telling him: he read longing and pleading and confusion in them, mirroring his own emotions.

And suddenly time seemed to start working again, the world around them came back into existence: Harry heard the shower head dripping slowly, and the rush of blood in his ears, and the faint sounds of a car outside, when he moved forward to close the distance between himself and Draco and ever so gently nuzzled his lips against the Slytherin´s.

--

Draco felt so dizzy that it took him a moment to realize that it was really happening.

His breath hitched as Harry´s lips touched his, brushing against them so tenderly that Draco wasn´t entirely sure wether he was merely dreaming, but then he felt himself being wrapped in Harry´s arms gingerly, and Harry´s cheek resting against his own, and that was when his knees gave out and he sagged against the Gryffindor, his heart beating rapidly against the other´s, only separated by a wet shirt and an equally wet towel.

Harry´s stomach seemed to be doing somersaults.

Holding Draco close to him, he inhaled the lingering traces of wetness and soap and the underlying unique scent of Draco himself.

Happiness spread within him once more as he felt the other boy nestle against him, Draco´s arms sliding around his back and returning the embrace.  
His own legs felt like jelly as well from being so close.

He nuzzled Draco´s cheek, feeling as though he was finally allowed to open a present which he had been staring at for months. He marvelled at the softness of Draco´s skin, at the feeling of his mouth against his own.

Draco leaned into Harry´s caress, closing his eyes. He didn´t care that he was growing cold, he didn´t care that this was Potter, the only thing that mattered was how gentle he was. Undemanding.

Draco was very aware that he wouldn´t have been a match for Harry if the Gryffindor had intended to force himself upon him, and that he very likely would have died if yet another man had touched him without his consent in order to use him, but for some reason, he knew that this was not not the case.

Harry didn´t want to use him, of that he was sure. He rather seemed as surprised as Draco. Who felt even more reassured when some detached part of his brain told him that Harry was not aroused, at least not from what he could feel through the barrier of the towel and Harry´s pants.

_This is about me_, Draco thought, amazed, _not about my body_.

And with that, he minutely turned his head until his lips had found Harry´s again, seeking to feel their touch.

Harry´s heart leapt at this: only now did he realize that he had been afraid Draco would recoil from him, would be too strongly reminded of being manhandled by people who wanted to brutally use him.

It only now occured to him that Draco was still naked underneath the towel and trembling increasingly. He pulled back a little: "You´re cold," he stated softly, his eyes finding Draco´s.

The other boy blushed and shrugged at the same time: "It doesn´t matter," he said, imitating Harry´s words from earlier, causing both of them to grin shyly, their eyes still locked.

Slowly, their expressions became serious again as they were lost in each other´s gaze, trying to understand what was happening to them.

"What is this?" Draco finally whispered.

Harry made an odd movement between a shrug and a shake of his head: "Beats me," he replied in a whisper as well, his voice barely audible: "But I think it feels brilliant."

--

Later on, Draco couldn´t recall how exactly he had gotten dressed and back into Harry´s room, it all blurred together. While he had crawled back into bed, Harry had pulled his wet shirt off and another one on and had joined him, slipping under the blanket just as he had done so many times before.

But this time, it was different nevertheless.

With the same tenderness he had shown in the bathroom did he wrap his arms around Draco until they were nestled against each other so closely that they could feel each other´s heartbeats.

Draco was afraid to close his eyes, in case this was a dream after all, but couldn´t fight it in the end. Utterly spent from showering and the assault of emotions, he felt himself drifting off to sleep, surrounded by Harry´s scent and warmth, and reassured by the steady rhythm of his heart.

When Draco awoke in the afternoon, he found himself being watched by a pair of startling green eyes. He would have found this unnerving had they not been so full of warmth; they smiled at him even before Harry smiled:"You look much younger when you sleep," he said quietly.

Draco blinked: "I do?"

"Hmm..." Harry raised one hand and retraced the fine lines around Draco´s eyes with his finger: "These are not there then," he mused. "And your eyes..."

His fingers wandered further, gingerly brushing over Draco´s eyelids, causing him to blink again. "Your eyes are telling that you´ve seen a lot," he continued tranquilly. "When you sleep, that´s hidden."

Draco felt entranced by his voice and didn´t want him to stop: "What else?"

Harry´s gaze slowly wandered over his features, letting his fingers follow, leaving a plesasant tingle in their wake as they now explored his ear: "Sea-shell," Harry murmured, retracing the delicate curves.

Draco´s gaze lingered at him: "Do you believe all this?" he asked softly.

Harry´s eyes found his own once more: "I have stopped asking myself that on my eleventh birthday," he replied matter-of-factly after a moment´s silence.

His hand left Draco´s ear and found his hand instead, taking it in his own and stroking it with his thumb: "But no, I don´t. I keep thinking this is insane, only... it doesn´t feel insane."

"A few weeks ago, we hated each other," Draco said weakly, a lump forming in his throat. "It can hardly be possible... I mean..." he fell silent, unable to betray his feelings.

He couldn´t deny his heart, even though he knew he should: "You´ve been good to me," he whispered, his voice choked.

Harry saw that he was on the brink of tears and inwardly chided himself: he should have known that all this was very emotionally taxing on Draco, who had yet to deal with what had happened to him.

Not that he, Harry, wasn´t confused about this as well, but there was an underlying calm in him, a sense of confidence that told him it was all right. Almost as if he could hear Dumbledore´s voice, though he wasn´t sure why he thought the Headmaster would approve of this.

But he seemed to value Harry, just as Harry valued him, and the boy couldn´t for the life of him imagine that Dumbledore would reassess this opinion only because Harry was... was... that Harry felt attracted by another boy.

Feeling heat rushing to his heat, he bit his lower lip: Ron, on the other hand... he might not understand it, especially if he´d learn about the fact that it was Draco Malfoy whom Harry felt attracted to. Or Hermione, come to that.

Both of them had been constant targets of Draco´s spite, just like Harry. He looked at Draco, trying to understand how he could have been like that. It seemed light-years away and utterly insignificant now, but still, his friends wouldn´t have forgotten.

Of course, neither of them had witnessed any of what had happened during these past few weeks, had they? Draco had stood up to Voldemort in order to protect Harry, after all, and had ended up as a beaten, bloody mess on his doorstep.

And then... a frightened bundle in the clutches of nightmares which were so much the worse because they weren´t dreams but memories. A hand to hold in the dark. Someone to talk to in the waking hours, someone whose opinions on Quidditch were highly interesting. A new ally. A soft, lithe body against his own. Grey eyes so deep that one could easily get lost in them. A diversity of emotions...

Harry´s eyes widened in wonder as he realized how much Draco really meant to him: it wasn´t simply attraction.

And it was totally different from how he had imagined his first kiss... well, technically it hadn´t even been a real kiss, but it had felt as intimate as could be, and had left the wish in him to repeat it.

His heart beat faster once more, causing his hands to tremble. Did this mean he was into guys? He had never felt anything for a girl so strongly which he now felt for Draco, not even for Cho.

He swallowed: this summer surely had it in for him, that much was clear. On the other hand: if it meant feeling like he was feeling now, and being able to be with Draco, there was nothing to be said against it...

Slowly, he focused on the blond boy, who had watched him while he had been mulling things over, anxiously witnessing the range of emotions which crossed Harry´s features. The Gryffindor now cleared his throat, his expression solemn as he spoke: "You know... I... I might be gay."

Draco stared at him: "Er..." he said. "That´s... that´s..."

"Good?" Harry finished for him in a hopeful tone, feeling very bold.

Draco still couldn´t but stare. How could Harry be so... buoyant about this? It was making their lives even more complicated, and they couldn´t possibly... his skin began to prickle unpleasantly, and he withdrew his hand from Harry´s.

"I can´t," he whispered, "please... I am dirty... tainted..." He tried to curl up in a ball.

Harry´s high spirits quickly ebbed away as he realized what he had done. _Idiot_, he cursed himself, hadn´t he just told himself not to overstrain Draco?

Had he just destroyed everything that had been between them?

"I am sorry," he whispered, feeling his own eyes swimming as he beheld the pain in Draco´s face. "I didn´t mean to press you..."

Draco whimpered and closed his eyes.

"Draco," Harry tried, his voice shaking, desperately wishing to prevent the Slytherin from sliding into panic, "it´s all right..."

He sat up and tentatively touched Draco´s shoulder. At least he didn´t recoil, but he didn´t respond otherwise either.

Very gently and with his heart hammering painfully in his chest did Harry wind his arms around Draco and pulled him into his lap, cradling him close and murmuring soothing words into his ear just like he had done so many times before, despite his own distress.

"I´m dirty," Draco repeated, sobbing brokenly, "I c-can still f-feel it... despite the sh-shower... "

"Shshshshsh..." Harry minutely rocked him until the crying abated and Draco just gave an occasional exhausted sniffle.

"Draco," he said almost timidly when he was sure that the other would hear him, "don´t be scared, please... I know I shouldn´t have descended on you like that. I just tend to wear my heart on my sleeve is all."

After a moment or two, Draco stirred: "Your heart?" he repeated feebly.

The subtle, shy hope in his hushed voice almost made Harry weep himself: "My heart," he confirmed, feeling the truth behind it as once more his belly felt warm and fuzzy all of a sudden.

Draco was trembling as he looked up at him: "You c-can´t..." he breathed. "I... they..."

Harry however slowly ran his hand over Draco´s temple and caressed his cheek: "To me you are not dirty," he said with so much conviction in his voice that he almost sounded fierce and as if daring Draco to contradict him.

Fresh tears were spilling from the blond´s eyes and running down his white face as he held Harry´s gaze.

Harry pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him, his voice reverberating through his chest as he next spoke: "Just so you know," he said softly. "For future references."

--

No more words were spoken until the evening.

Draco was calm as Harry´s words slowly sank in, and despite the fear that still filled his heart, despite being afraid that he might not be good enough for Harry, he allowed himself to feel the happiness which slowly infiltrated his confused mind. He had trusted Harry this far, hadn´t he?

Harry on the other hand lay awake that night, with Draco snuggled up against him, the backs of his hands dug into Harry´s shirt. He listened to the Slytherin´s soft breathing and wondered how things were going to be from now on.

He had been honest with Draco concerning his feelings. He didn´t know if this was what... well, love felt like, but he certainly felt giddy whenever he recalled the moment in the bathroom when Draco had returned the sort-of kiss.

His life, he thought, really seemed bound to be complicated.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--  
**


	11. Steps

**-o-  
**

**Chapter 11: Steps  
**

**-o-O-o-**

--

Madam Pomfrey was relieved to hear that Draco had settled and had even taken a shower without any incidents. Harry did not tell her what had transpired between him and the Slytherin, of course.

The Healer noticed that Draco seemed a little restless, but assumed that he was just tired of having to stay in bed now that he was getting better. She was very strict about it, however, and did not make exceptions, as she didn´t want to risk a relapse.

Harry´s and Draco´s relationship changed very subtly. Harry knew that Draco needed a lot of time to process the circumstances that life had thrown in him, including what was going on between them. He was very quiet, often sitting with a book on his lap but gazing ahead, evidently lost in thought.

The books were a good distraction nevertheless: even though he still had nightmares in varying degrees of intensity, he liked to occupy himself with whatever he was reading. Harry didn´t know many of the books Madam Pomfrey had brought, since most of them had been written by witches or wizards, but Draco usually told him what they were about, and they sometimes discussed the stories.

Apart from that, they did homework; as Draco didn´t have his school things with him, they shared Harry´s books, parchment and quill. It had the advantage that they could help each other, and Harry wondered what Hermione would say about this.

Even though they didn´t kiss again, something Harry sometimes found hard to maintain, they often snuggled up with each other and not only when Draco had been scared out of sleep by the memories that kept haunting him. It was impossible to be confined to the same small room without seeking each other´s closeness.

At first, Harry thought it was only him, but Draco sought his touch as well. An atmosphere of quiet contentment and happiness that didn´t seem to have anything to do with real life prevailed in the room, despite the horrors Draco had to relive in his dreams.

Not even Harry´s presence could entirely stave them off, although Draco wasn´t as afraid to go to sleep as he had been for a while, for he knew Harry was there for him to wake him up and calm him in case he was panicking. He often thought he probably shouldn´t feel that happy, and wondered that he was able to at all, but it was there, undeniably, helping him through the darkness that often haunted him.

And Harry felt less restless; after he had gotten back at the start of the summer break he had hardly been able to wait until the new school year would begin, so that he would be able to return to the wizarding world and learn any news about Voldemort, but right now he caught himself relishing in the peaceful quiet he and Draco were enjoying, despite their confinement.

He missed being able to go out, of course, and playing Quidditch above all, but at the same time knew it would never again be like this, not at school.

Sometimes they lay awake at night, waiting for Draco to stop trembling and for the darkness to lose its threat; Harry usually began talking about random topics then in order to distract Draco, and sometimes they would stay awake until dawn then, or even laugh, or allow their whispered conversation to slowly drift off into sleep, leaving the words lingering in their minds.

They gradually learned more and more about each other during those nightly conversations; it was easier to make confessions in the dark, Harry thought, for example when Draco asked him what the funny device in the door was.

Harry told him how his uncle had built the cat flap in two summers ago and for what purpose, and Draco admitted that it reminded him of how his father had threatened the house-elves in front of him every time Draco had done something which had earned him punishment; if they had dared to help him in any way, they would have been killed. "He always treated them like dirt," he said in a choked voice. "But in those cases it was worst. He did kill one once..."

He broke off, trembling. Harry nodded helplessly, not knowing what to say; he could easily imagine that, having witnessed Lucius Malfoy with Dobby.

-

One morning, Madam Pomfrey arrived together with Remus, who laughed about the bemused look on Harry´s face: "It seems you haven´t been keeping track with the date," he said. "Happy Birthday, Harry!"

Harry blushed: how could he possibly have forgotten about his own birthday? "Oh...right," he said, "I hadn´t thought... thanks!"

Unexpectedly, Remus pulled him into a hug: "From Snuffles," he said in an untertone. "He sends his best wishes."

Harry´s heart leapt- he had never gotten a hug for his birthday!

And that wasn´t all he got; while Madam Pomfrey congratulated him as well, Remus quickly piled up presents on his desk. He then turned back to Harry, beaming: "They all have cards on them, so you know who sent you what," he said. "And Molly sends you the cake as well."

Harry´s eyes strayed over to the cake which he hadn´t properly noticed before, and smiled as he thought of Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you," he said, overwhelmed. "That´s the first time I ever had a table with presents laid out on them." Lupin eyed him sympathetically and smiled: "Go on, then, open them!"

-

While Harry was occupied with his presents, Madam Pomfrey tended to Draco. He looked somewhat sad, she thought, but altogether not as poorly as he had so far.

His injuries were nearly healed, and his face had regained some colour: he looked merely pale, not ashen as before. "Well... I must say I am astounded by the rather quick rate of your recovery," she said after she had finished examining and treating him, evidently pleased: "it is rather uncommon for magically induced wounds and... wounds of that severity. If you feel up to it, you may get up from now on, dear."

Draco´s face lit up: "Really?"

She nodded, giving him a stern look: "No exertion whatsoever, and you still need a lot of rest and good food. I´ll be hearing about any infringements!"

She smiled at the last words, however, and Draco felt utterly relieved. If he wanted to get his strength back, he had to have the opportunity to at least get up and walk a few steps, hadn´t he?

"Ah, Poppy," Remus said, spotting that the Healer had finished and was packing her bag, "I was hoping you and Mr Malfoy might join us in a little celebration." He pulled four butterbeers out from underneath his tattered cloak.

Madam Pomfrey looked uncertain for a moment, then turned around to Draco: "Well, I guess it won´t harm you," she said and, to Harry´s and Lupin´s surprise, extended one hand.

Draco hesitantly took it, quickly scrambled out from underneath the blankets and let her help him stand. He swayed only minutely and couldn´t but beam at the others, blushing at the same time, when the Healer announced that she had allowed him to get up.

They uncorked the butterbeers and raised their bottles, toasting to Harry and Draco´s recovery. Both boys kept blushing; Draco not only because he suddenly found himself in the centre of attention, but also because he well remembered his former behaviour towards Lupin and felt ashamed.

While the others merrily chatted away, he kept contemplating it in his mind. Taking a deep breath, he decided that he could as well now start what he had promised himself to do: "Mr Lupin," he said, his voice sounding thin and shaky, "I- I need to say something."

He noticed the surprised look on everybody´s faces, but quickly continued before his courage could leave him: "I know I have been badmouthing and... and abusing you all the time during... during your time as a teacher. I w-would like to apologize."

After a moment of stunned silence, Lupin smiled at him and stretched out his hand: "Never mind," he said lightly. "Thank you, I appreciate this."

Draco´s knees were shaking so badly by now that he quickly made it back to the bed. Sinking onto the mattress, he looked up to find Harry´s gaze lingering upon him- he beamed at Draco with something akin to pride in his eyes, and nodded minutely.

Draco, feeling as though he had run a hundred miles, gave a sigh of relief. That hadn´t been too bad.

-

Later, after Lupin and Madam Pomfrey had left, Harry sat down on his desk chair and looked at his presents, but his mind was elsewhere: Draco had lain down on the bed and curled up, he seemed to have dozed off.

Harry took Ron´s card in his hand: apparently, Ron was still trying to comprehend what was happening, as he encouraged Harry to sweat it out: "I reckon he´s in pretty bad shape, but if he gets back to his old self once he´s better, just don´t let him get to you, mate. In a few weeks you´ll get rid of him anyway..."

Harry smiled, shaking his head. _Don´t let him get to you_ clearly had not worked so far, he thought.

He opened the book Hermione had given him, _Famous Quidditch Seekers and their Rise to Fame_, and looked at the pictures; people were beaming and waving at him, and he suddenly felt a strong yearning to belong.

He didn´t want to pay the wizarding world merely visits, he wanted to live in it completely. He wanted to have a family who didn´t consider it weird to use fireplaces as a means of traveling. That thought didn´t have as much sting as he had had before, now that he looked up and saw the presents from his friends and Sirius, but it still pained him, even if it was much more than he had ever had before.

He wanted to have a real family, someone who belonged to him...

After contemplating this for a while, he got up and leaned over the sleeping form on the bed: Draco´s face was half-buried into the sheet, his mouth slightly open, one hand curled up next to his forehead.

Harry suddenly felt a great affection for him. Cautiously, so as not to wake Draco, he lowered himself down on the bed behind him and wrapped his arm around him.

Taking a deep breath, he let the feeling of contentment he experienced every time he did this overwhelm him. He felt complete, accomplished, with this particular person, this warm body in his arms.

Draco subconsciously snuggled closer to him, his breath ghosting over Harry´s wrist, causing a pleasant shiver to run down the Gryffindor´s spine.

Harry closed his eyes, being happy- this was the best birthday he had ever had.

-

He woke up at dusk, confused at first, not certain which day it was and how he had gotten there, until he felt the gentle motion of Draco´s belly underneath his arm as the blond was breathing slowly.

He was awake, however, as Harry could see his eyelashes move every time he blinked. Harry´s hand, unthinkingly, found Draco´s, and their fingers curled up around each other´s, before Draco pulled it up to his face and nuzzled his cheek against the back of Harry´s hand.

Distangling his fingers, he reached out and pulled something out from underneath the pillow next to his. Slowly, he turned around in Harry´s arms until they were facing each other.

He studied the Gryffindor´s face for a moment, overwhelmed by the fondness he read in Harry´s eyes: "Do they always ignore your birthday?" he asked so very softly that it was almost a whisper, his voice throaty.

Harry immediately knew that he was talking about the Dursleys: "Most of the time," he replied, equally low. "I don´t care, though." His eyes told Draco that this was true, that it didn´t matter to Harry anymore wether the Dursleys cared or not.

"They have never really been your family, have they?" the Slytherin asked.

"No," for some reason, Harry smiled. "they have just been an annoyance. We tolerated each other, is all."

"You don´t deserve that," Draco whispered. "You are such a good person..."

At the same moment, Harry felt Draco´s fingertips brush against his hand, caressing it before applying gentle pressure until Harry´s fingers uncurled.

Something was slipped into them, then Draco´s fingers disappeared: "Happy Birthday, Harry," he whispered, the smallest of smiles lighting his face for a few precious seconds.

Harry looked down and opened his hand: a small bird made of parchment was lying in his hand. It shimmered in the approaching darkness that was beginning to fill the room, replacing the twilight that inhered in the dusk.

He brought it before his eyes to examine it more closely: it was delicate, its tiny wings spreading out as if ready to fly. He looked from the bird to Draco in awe: "How did you make this without using magic?" he whispered.

Draco blushed furiously, even though his face suddenly looked sad: "One of the house-elves taught me when I was younger and had been locked into my room as punishment," he whispered. "That´s what my father killed him for... said he didn´t approve of Muggle pastimes, and besides, the elf had made me laugh, tried to cheer me up..." His voice gave out.

"I am sorry," Harry said, stricken, wondering why Draco had made this for him when it bore such a sad memory.

"It´s okay," Draco said, though slightly choked, as if he had read Harry´s thoughts. "Remembering the past is helping to overcome it, right? He... he makes me so angry... Maybe if I am furious enough I will forget my fear..." he added, trying to sound brave.

Harry´s heart beat so rapidly that he could feel it in his throat, and he would have loved to kiss Draco right there, right then. He had rarely before talked so openly about Lucius. With his free hand, he found Draco´s and squeezed it: "Yes," he said simply. "Maybe."

He looked at the bird again, now having understood what it meant: the will to persevere. They were not going to be killed like the elf.

-

That night, Harry awoke when Draco began to whimper: "Dad...," he sobbed, despair evident in his voice, "No, Dad, please don´t... please..."

Harry had heard this before, but it broke his heart anew every time. He reached out for Draco, who had gotten up on his knees , still fast asleep, and was pressing back against the wall as if seeking to escape, cowering low and shaking terribly.

"Wake up, Draco," Harry soothed, "he is not here, it´s all right... you´ll be okay, I´m here with you, it´s me, Harry..." Draco complied, not fully waking up, but coming out of his panic.

It took some time until he was coherent enough to let himself be coaxed to lie back down onto the mattress.

Gently, Harry pulled him into his arms, talking to him relentlessly, until Draco had come to lie on his stomach, half of his body on Harry´s, who gently stroked his head in order to comfort him, all the while whispering nonsense into his ear .

Once the shaking had abated, Harry reinforced his embrace. He could feel Draco´s heart flutter against his ribs like a little bird against the bars of its cage, still on the run.

-

When he awoke in the following morning, they were still lying in the exact same position; Draco was still asleep, his face nuzzled into Harry´s neck, his body draped over the Gryffindor´s and their legs entwined.

Harry relished in the warm weight of the other and the soft breath against his skin, yet to his horror he discovered that he had a hard-on which was currently pressing into Draco´s hip.

Harry very nearly squirmed at this, afraid that he might scare the Slytherin with this. Cautiously, thus agonizingly slowly in order not to wake the other, he slid out from under him, determined to make it to the bathroom.

He had nearly succeeded when Draco stirred.

"Be right back," Harry whispered, cautiously easing the blond boy off him, then dashed out of the room.

When he came back, looking flushed, Draco had sat up and was staring ahead bleary-eyed. He was tousled and looked relieved to see Harry, who slipped back into bed with him, glad to have avoided any misunderstandings.

How could this have happened, he asked himself, blushing furiously. He could not be lusting after someone who needed him, who needed a person he could trust.

Draco however had not noticed his distress and had dozed off again, safely nestled against Harry´s chest. Harry did not want him to lose this.

-

It was not in their power to stop time from flying, however. One morning, Professor Dumbledore accompanied Madam Pomfrey once more, to talk about the coming school year´s arrangements after the Healer would have tended to Draco.

Who couldn´t subdue a feeling of dread at this, but Harry managed to calm him: "You´ll be okay," he said quietly when he saw the timid look on Draco´s face, "I´ll be there as well, remember?"

Dumbledore smiled benignly at Draco: "You will be pleased to hear that Professor Snape has managed to successfully brew a large amount of Polyjuice Potion," he said, "and he has also informed me that he has managed to modify it to the effect that you will have to take it merely once per day, not on an hourly basis. Which should prevent attracting too much attention on yourself."

Draco nodded, dazed: "Who will be with me?" he asked.

"An Auror called Malcolm McIver," Dumbledore replied, "you are going to meet him soon."

"That´s a Scottish name," Harry said, "won´t it be noticed if has an accent?"

"He doesn´t have one," Dumbledore assured him. "Believe me, he is well-trained." He turned to Draco: "Since it is merely two weeks until the new term starts, we will have to make arrangements soon. You are going to have to leave here in order to spend the remaining time with Mr. McIver and get acquainted with him as well as your new identity."

Draco exchanged a glance with Harry, and the Gryffindor noticed the alarmed expression on the blond boy´s face: "W-where am I going?" he asked.

"I am afraid I cannot not tell you," Dumbledore answered, "but rest assured that it is a safe location."

Harry´s and Draco´s eyes met again; this time, there was an unmistakable plea in Draco´s gaze: "But H-harry..." he muttered, never taking his eyes off the other boy.

Dumbledore watched them attentively: "I know that you feel safe with Harry," he said very gently. "It is however of the utmost importance that both of you arrive in Hogwarts not only unharmed but first and foremost not at the same time. We cannot afford for anyone to make a connection between you two. That is why you and your "twin" will arrive a few days after the term has already started."

Draco had hardly heard him; he had gone pale and his eyes were fixed on Harry, who had taken the blond´s hand in his.

The old Headmaster leaned forward: "Draco," he said quietly but with a voice that demanded attention. Draco eventually looked at him, wide-eyed and fearful. He had know that the day would come, but he hadn´t expected that the prospect of leaving Harry´s shelter would be so scaring.

"I know this is a lot to ask of you," Dumbledore continued in the same gentle voice, even though it had an insistent undertone now, "once school has started, your cover _must_ stand! I told you about the Ministry- they will do everything to try and interfere at Hogwarts from now on, and we cannot trust anyone. Thus, it is unavoidable that you go and spend the next two weeks with Mr. McIver. You must make sure you are sufficiently familiar with your role, do you understand?"

Draco slowly nodded. "I do," he said in a low, hollow voice.

He felt Harry´s hand squeeze his own and tried to pull himself together. He had begun trying to be strong. He couldn´t back down now, could he?

Drawing a shaky breath, he straightened up a bit: "Thank you, sir," he said, meeting Dumbledore´s twinkling gaze.

The Headmaster inclined his head: "I offered you protection," he said quietly, a smile playing across his features. "I intend to keep my word."

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**

_Author´s Note_: I´ll be away next week, therefore the next update will be later than usual. But don´t worry- I´ll be back!


	12. Memories

Here I am again, presenting you the next chapter full of angst and similar fun stuff!

Enjoy, and thank you for reading!

**-o-  
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**Chapter 12: Memories  
**

**-o-O-o-**

--

A week later, Harry was lying on a bed in a musty old room in a gloomy old house in Grimmauld Place, broodily staring at the cracks in the ceiling above him.

No matter how eager he had been to finally see Hermione and Ron, how much he had wanted to talk to Sirius and be part of the wizarding world again, did he not feel all right now. Sirius´ house was not a happy place, cleaning it out was tiring, and Harry found that he was impatient to finally get back to Hogwarts. He longed to be outside now, having merely swapped one prison for another if one looked at it more closely, longed to play Quidditch and feel the wind around his face.

He hardly dared to admit to himself that there was another reason, a reason even more pressing: he was missing Draco. He couldn´t confide in anyone, for they certainly would have thought he was insane; yet his heart ached when he thought of the Slytherin, and he felt lonely going to bed alone.

"You are mental," he told himself several times a day, but to no avail.

Their time together seemed surreal now, but Harry couldn´t forget how the other boy had felt in his arms, how they had talked, and how his belly had fluttered when he had felt Draco´s lips against his own. Whenever his train of thought had reached this point, he blushed, hoping that he wasn´t only missing the Slytherin´s body.

Deep down in his heart he knew that that was not the case, though, for what he was thinking of most of all were Draco´s eyes- deep, grey pools which were no longer cold when they rested on Harry.

Very often the Gryffindor took the little bird out of his trunk, careful so no one else would see it, and held it in his hand. At times he thought he could feel its tiny heart, fluttering against his skin just as Draco´s had done, and missed the other one all the more.

Ron and Hermione noticed that Harry often was absent-minded; they didn´t blame him, though, since they assumed he hadn´t had an easy time at the Dursleys, and felt quite guilty about not being able to get in contact with him.

While Ron was putting his hopes in the fact that the new term was about to start soon, thinking that Harry might get back to normal once they were back at Hogwarts, Hermione often watched Harry with a concerned expression, wondering what had gotten into him.

-

In the daytime, Draco was able to cope. Malcolm McIver was an amiable guy in his mid-twenties who had the gift of easy conversation; he mostly talked about his girlfriend, his job and how he would enjoy going back to Hogwarts. He wasn´t a fool, though; even if he hadn´t known what had happened to Draco, he could see the haunted look in the boy´s eyes, speaking of suffering and grief and terrible fear. He didn´t mother Draco, though; Dumbledore had advised him no to.

"He needs to get back on his feet out of his own volition," the old Headmaster had said. "Just give him time, and be there in case he needs someone to talk to. Show him he´s got no reason to be afraid of you."

They were housed in a heavily warded flat in the middle of London, not too far from Grimmauld Place actually, but neither Draco nor Harry could know that, and if they had, it wouldn´t have been any good, since they wouldn´t have been able to get together. They could have been miles apart.

Draco tried to get a grip on himself and memorize the parameters of his new life. They tried the Polyjuice Potion daily in order to adjust; apart from that, their wardrobes had to be customized, a new wand for him to be found. He missed his old one, and his new one felt strange in his hand even though it had reacted to him.

Draco shied away from his reflexion when he first looked at his new self. He didn´t look bad, but it was so strange to look into a mirror and have a complete stranger staring back at you. He was sandy-haired and freckled ever so slightly, a friendly-looking boy altogether, but still not himself. His twin almost looked the same, there were only a few slight differences: a birth mark, a more prominent dent in the chin.

The nights however were dreadful. Apart from his new things he would wear at Hogwarts, which were a little too big for him as his normal self, Draco only had the clothes Harry had given him. He was always cold, thus he was sleeping in them. Or rather, hardly sleeping, as he could not find real rest.

He huddled under the blanket and tried to get warm, but he usually felt too alone and was afraid to close his eyes, as he knew no one would be there if he woke up terrified. "Don´t be stupid," he told himself, "don´t be a baby." He had gotten so used to sleeping in Harry´s arms, however, that he couldn´t seem to get comfortable.

When he finally fell asleep after all, usually long after he had lain down, his dreams quickly turned into nightmares. Sometimes he woke up screaming, sometimes he found himself out of bed, searching for a door to escape through or some means to hide.

Usually McIver came in then, spelling Draco´s locked door open, to see if he was all right. He never touched the frightened boy, just made sure that he calmed down and got back into bed.

Malcolm was worried as to what would happen at Hogwarts, and addressed the matter when he talked to Dumbledore after the first week.

The Headmaster shook his head sympathetically: "Poor boy..." he murmured. "We won´t be able to subdue his nightmares. Don´t worry, though: since you are going to be fifth-years, you´ll be housed in Mr Potter´s dormitory, which should help a great deal already. I will make sure that Mr Malfoy´s bed will be between yours and Mr Potter´s, whom he seems to trust greatly; I suppose it might help concealing his state a lot if you simply cast a silencing charm on his bed after he has gone to sleep."

-

After the first few nights, Draco had resorted to sleeping with a light on so he wouldn´t be too disoriented when he woke up, but he kept chiding himself. He couldn´t go on like this, he had to be brave.

"Face it, " he told himself, "in Hogwarts, things are going to change. Harry won´t be there for you anymore, he can´t, not with all his friends around, not with school and Quidditch practice, not with you being pathetic..."

Tears were filling his eyes at this, but he supposed it was true: the past few weeks had been a strange mixture of fear and bliss, yet Harry had other things to occupy himself with once he wouldn´t be locked into the same room with Draco anymore.

It would be all too easy for him to forget Draco, to forget what they briefly had had. Or not had had, Draco thought bitterly, for what had really happened if he was honest with himself? His stomach clenched at the same moment, and he felt like a traitor.

"Pathetic fag," he scolded himself, "how could you have become dependent on Potter at all, for Merlin´s sake?" So he lay in bed, wondering how his life had been turned so over completely that enemies suddenly were allies and family were not.

He tried very hard to prepare himself as much as possible; as soon as Madam Pomfrey had allowed him out of bed, he had begun to get up regularly and walk a few steps. He needed to get back his strength, people would notice if he didn´t.

So he began pacing around his respective confinements, and it wasn´t long before he stopped feeling dizzy after a few steps. He could feel the strain on his body, and sometimes he sat down trembling in between, yet it felt like taking matters into his hands, and that felt good. He was less afraid during the day and able to concentrate on other things than Harry.

One night though, he dreamed of his mother. He couldn´t move, just watch her as she slowly approached him, her face breaking into a smile as she reached out and pulled him into her arms. He could smell her perfume, could feel her heartbeat as she held him tight: "I´ve missed you, Draco," she whispered into his ear, her voice reverberating through her chest, "my darling boy..."

He woke up trembling, grasping the sheet underneath him tightly until he realized that it had been but a dream. He suddenly felt bereft, and the realization hurt so much that he found it hard to breathe: he would never see his mother again, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Shaking, he got out of bed and began pacing the room, hugging himself tightly: he should go back to the Manor, should try to find her body, if it was still there, to lay her to rest... he shivered violently at the thought, yet it kept coming back to him. She was dead and he had yet to bury her... his own father had killed her... he tried to remember what Lucius had said about it, but he couldn´t recall the exact words.

He merely remembered his fear and the coldness in his father´s voice... he closed his eyes, trying to see his mother again, to shut out the image of his father, of his fellow Death Eaters, of people who were able and willing to hurt and humiliate...

-

Harry woke up with a start and immediately pressed his hand against his scar, which was burning fiercely. It had tingled a lot during the past few weeks, but right now an agony shot through Harry that made his eyes water. Panting, he tried to concentrate on the dream he had had before, but to no avail.

The pain even seemed to intensify, flared up so red-hot for a moment that a whimper escaped Harry´s lips, then vanished as suddenly as it had come. Harry drew a deep breath and fell back onto his pillow, shivering.

-

Morning found Draco in a crumpled heap on the floor a few hours later, staring blankly ahead. He wasn´t sure if he had slept at all; he was freezing and felt ill, yet he didn´t move.

He couldn´t, even though there were no chains this time, for the wall was too far and he´d rather die of thirst than leave his mother. He didn´t see her but he knew she was there, he had seen her in the dark and never left the spot where she had been standing.

He thought he could still feel her perfume lingering in a faint trace around him. _Protection_, his feverish mind told him, she wouldn´t let them do him any more harm. He was too exhausted and his body felt like lead, thus he didn´t hear the approaching footsteps and flinched violently when someone touched his arm.

A worried voice sounded through the room, then there was touch again. Draco put up a struggle until he was being lifted off the floor. A moment later, he was being eased down onto the bed. A blanket was spread over him, and the warmth that began spreading through him a little later was so pleasant that he closed his eyes.

Pictures haunted the darkness that was engulfing him, accompanied by horrible screams that echoed through it: a female voice, pleading and begging...

He shot up and batted the hands away that were there immediately: "Where is she?" he panted, unseeingly, trying to get up, "what did he do to her?"

He never heard the spell that was hastily being murmured, but his agitation died down soon; he fell back onto the pillow and inexplicably felt calmer all of a sudden. Someone supported his head and made him swallow a bit of cool liquid. Tiredness spread in him like wildfire, and he knew no more.

A gentle hand on his forehead was the next sensation he felt, followed by the pleasant coolness of a damp cloth; someone talked in a hushed voice, then there was silence again.

He awoke in the evening, wondering for a moment why he had been sleeping during the day, until he saw Madam Pomfrey sitting next to him. She looked relieved when she saw that he was awake: "There you are," she said kindly. "How do you feel, dear?"

Draco blinked, quickly taking stock: "Just... tired," he said softly. "What happened?"

The Healer eyed him seriously: "Mr McIver found you out of bed this morning, you were unresponsive and feverish, apart from cold and exhausted. I suppose it was another nightmare?" she added, sounding rather apprehensive.

Draco vaguely recalled being out of bed, but he didn´t remember the details. He felt drained and disappointed by himself. He couldn´t go on like this, he just couldn´t...

A hand on his hand pulled him out of these thoughts: "It takes time," Madam Pomfrey said very softly, as though she had read his mind.

Draco nodded to show that he understood, that he appreciated her concern, yet he felt devastated. There was no real comfort, nothing that could have consoled him, unless... he shook his head. It had to stop, he couldn´t keep burdening Harry with his problems.

It had all been forced upon the Gryffindor, hadn´t it? He subdued a groan so as not to upset the witch next to him any further; his fingers curled around hers as he lay back, exhausted by his own endless thoughts.

Twilight filled the room. Madam Pomfrey thought Draco had drifted back to sleep, yet after a while he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at her. His voice was small, scared and barely audible when he spoke: "Am I going mad?"

A gasp escaped her even as she shook her head: "No, love, you aren´t," she said with much conviction. "You are just processing. It is a slow progress, you know."

Draco considered this for a while; she could see his eyes moving in the increasing gloom of darkness, restlessly. He didn´t seem entirely convinced yet, as he kept tightening his grip on her hand and opened his mouth as if intent to speak, but then closed it as though lost for words, at the same time loosening his grip again.

Finally, when they were sitting in the dark already, he nodded once more, the movement only visible because of his light hair: "Okay..." he said tentatively, "okay..."

-

Madam Pomfrey was hiding her true feelings until she was back in Grimmauld Place. She didn´t approve of the idea that Draco was going back to Hogwarts, and she told Dumbledore so in unmistakable terms: "The boy is trying to be brave, but he is delicate, Albus," she said in a strained voice. "Today´s incident proves that, and there is no way we can help him apart from giving him the time he needs! It wasn´t his body that failed him today, it was his mind that caused it!"

Dumbledore sighed; he knew that Poppy Pomfrey was right, but he also trusted Draco´s situation to improve as soon as he´d be near Harry again. He had not expected for Draco to become to reliant on one person, yet on the other hand there was no way to change the plan. It was necessary for Draco to return to Hogwarts, just as it was necessary for Harry as well. Both of them weren´t happy with their current situation, that much was clear, but they´d have to endure it.

The old wizard sighed again: during only four years in the wizarding world Harry had found himself in all kinds of difficult predicaments and had so far managed exceptionally well, better in fact than Dumbledore had dared to hope. Draco on the other hand... nobody could know if he would be able to cope. Blinking, the Headmaster looked at the Healer: "Time is what he will get," he said slowly. "At Hogwarts."

Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth to speak, but he cut across her: "It is the safest place for him, Poppy," he said wearily. "There are enough people to look out for him, and he will be distracted from his thoughts as well. It will be as close to normality as possible, something we wouldn´t achieve if we hid him somewhere."

The Healer crossed her arms: "Like now, you mean," she huffed. "He was improving as long as he was with Mr Potter. His nightmares however seem to have worsened again as soon as he had been transferred to his current location."

"Yet it had to be done," Dumbledore said patiently. "Their cover identity must be foolproof, and I thought it only considerate to give Harry some time with his friends before the new term starts. A lot of things are about to change for him as well, after all."

"If something like this happens at school, his secret will be out in no time at all," Madam Pomfrey demured.

Dumbledore cocked his head: "Well...," he said softly, "at least we will be prepared for it."

The Healer didn´t seem appeased by his words, rarely had Albus seen her so upset. "It is very much to ask of both of them," she said grudgingly.

Dumbledore nodded: "I agree," he said, for he knew that this was only the beginning of a lot more they would have to endure, and for a moment such a profound sadness crossed his face that it belied his calm expression. He had in fact never looked so old.

-

Even though Harry did not feel like talking about the issue at all, he finally told Ron and Hermione about Draco´s stay and how things had developed. He left out the kiss and how his heart yearned to see the Slytherin again, but it was clear that their relationship was not a hostile one anymore.

Whereas Ron seemed to be in denial that Harry could actually have befriended Malfoy, Hermione kept watching him closely. Harry couldn´t shake off the feeling that she sensed there was more than he let on, thus he often avoided her gaze because he knew he couldn´t stop himself from blushing as if caught in the act.

The last days of summer break passed quickly. Harry didn´t sleep very well and was having nightmares again, something that hadn´t occured since the start of summer. The morning of the first of September was very hectic; people kept bumping into each other on the stairs and the Weasley twins managed to cause some last-minute havoc before their party set out for King´s Cross.

Harry wasn´t surprised that they were being accompanied by Aurors- he did look slightly taken aback however when he saw that Snuffles was going to come with them. Even in his animal form Sirius was taking too great a risk in Harry´s opinion.

The large black dog seemed carefree, something which was nice for a change, as Sirius hadn´t been in good spirits most of the time; he hated being confined to a place he loathed, something Harry could admittedly relate to, yet it seemed reckless of Sirius to jeopardize his cover like this. Mrs. Weasley evidently thought the same, judging from her firmly set jaw.

-

Draco sat in the window seat of the living-room, hugging his knees and staring out into the morning. It was eleven; the Hogwarts Express was about to leave now, he knew, crowded with excited pupils.

A hand came into his view, offering a mug: "Cuppa?"

He took it silently, nodding his thanks. Malcolm sat down opposite of him, holding a steaming mug as well. "Feeling better today?" he asked. Draco took a deep breath: "Yeah..." he said somewhat half-heartedly, but then pulling himself together with an effort: "Well, not better actually... just different." It was strange to hear himself saying so, but it felt surprisingly good.

He had woken early and had lain awake thinking; he knew that he couldn´t go on like this, keeping all his emotions and fears bottled up inside, otherwise he _would_ go insane. He had decided to start over. And the first step was to force himself to trust McIver.

They had to be accounted for as twin brothers from now on, after all; he should be able to talk to him and act naturally around him. Especially as he planned not to bother Harry any longer. The pain this caused was entirely different from any other pain he had so far experienced, but he shut it out with all his might. He had to, he told himself over and over again, he simply had to.

Malcolm was watching him over the rim of his mug; his gaze was attentive yet not unfriendly.

"I´m trying," Draco murmured for he felt like he owed the other an explanation, and immediately felt ashamed for his defensiveness. "It´s... not easy though." McIver said nothing, just waited.

Draco drew a shaky breath: "I thought I was seeing my... my mother," he said as matter-of-factly as he could. "My father killed her." "Were you close?" Malcolm asked quietly. Draco nodded slowly: "She was the one thing in my life that was always good," he murmured, staring into his mug. "She tried to protect me from him..." He fell silent, it hurt too much. He could still feel the other´s gaze on himself, but it was bearable.

When he looked up, McIver´s eyes were sympathetic: "You know, I think those things linger," he said. "Love and such."

Draco smiled, grateful for the attempt to console him, though he didn´t agree- if love lingered, hatred had to as well. He rather thought it was the memory of it, which wasn´t bad either. Which was in fact all he had right now, and which he clung to at night when he couldn´t sleep- the memory of being held, of being cherished.

Inwardly, he sighed. Malcolm was very unlike Harry, and his comfort was different, but at least he tried. "Yes,"he therefore replied softly. "That would be nice."

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**

Next chapter: Hogwarts!

--

_Author´s note_: in the first book it becomes clear that the pupils are housed in dormitories of their respective years, thus it´s normal procedure that

Draco and Malcolm as Gryffindors are going to be in Harry´s dorm. Thanks, J.K! =)


	13. Don t you forget about me

_Author´s note_: A treat- this chapter is rather long!

I probably won´t be able to update as fast as usual during the next few months,

since I have quite a straining time ahead of me, but rest assured that I´ll not abandon this story!

_Additional disclaimer_: the chapter title is not mine!

**-o-  
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**Chapter 13: Don´t you (forget about me)  
**

**-o-O-o-**

--

Silence had filled the Great Hall after the new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher Dolores Umbridge had made her speech, and Harry could not shake off the feeling of dread that had overcome him then.

He was sitting on his bed in the fifth-years´ dormitory; all the others had gone to sleep already, but Hermione´s words were echoing around in Harry´s mind: _it means the Ministry´s interfering at Hogwarts_.

He could not forget the woman´s utterly cold eyes, and she had stared at Harry in a way that had made him uneasy. He wondered how Dumbledore could have allowed her into the staff, especially now... he buried his face in his hands: Draco would be arriving the day after tomorrow, as Harry had been told.

His heart beat faster at that, yet he couldn´t help feeling dread as well: Draco would certainly be terrified if he heard that someone from the Ministry was now teaching at Hogwarts, someone who probably was on first-name terms with Draco´s father... Harry shook his head. This was awful, and he couldn´t see a way out of it.

He was quite relieved that Draco hadn´t been present at the Welcoming Feast, though- Dumbledore had addressed the matter of his "disappearance" and had asked the students for their help- if any of them knew anything about the matter or where Mr Malfoy might be, they should turn to him or their respective heads of houses. Clever, Harry had mused and looked over to the Slytherin table; they seemed strangely subdued, and he wondered wether some of them actually knew what had happened- there were children of Death Eaters among them, after all. His stomach clenched uncomfortably at this, and he had to take a deep breath.

His thoughts went out to Hagrid next- he had neither been at the station nor at the feast, and Harry hoped that he was all right. Hogwarts without Hagrid was as unconceivable as Hogwarts without Dumbledore. The sheer idea made Harry even more uneasy than the toad-like face of Professor Umbridge.

And to top it all off, Seamus Finnigan had practically called Harry a liar and a lunatic because of what he had read in the Daily Prophet. Brilliant, Harry thought, if even people who knew him relatively well and had shared a dormitory with him for several years were beginning to believe the rubbish, others might be convinced even more quickly.

Ron, who had stepped in before they had gotten into a serious row, would not always be there to stand up for Harry, and apart from that, it was plainly annoying to always have to defend oneself.

He lay down on his bed, trying to distract himself by pondering the strange dead-looking horses that were pulling the carriages to Hogwarts; he was wondering wether he was going insane after all that had happened this summer, starting with the Triwizard Tournament.

Not wanting to go there either, he sat up again, snorting in frustration: this had to be the worst first night back at Hogwarts he had ever had.

--

Draco was glad to escape the flat, glad to finally leave for Hogwarts despite all the odds. He had not known how much he actually liked the castle until he arrived there in the evening of September the third. Malcolm had Apparated the two of them into Hogsmeade, where they had been picked up by Professor McGonagall in her function as Deputy Headmistress.

She knew about Draco, of course, as she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix; the rest of the staff had not been informed, only Snape knew, being a member of the Order as well. He as the head of Draco´s former house was waiting in Dumbledore´s office, where Malcolm and Draco were brought first.

Draco walked through the familiar corridors in a sort of trance; he had not gotten used to be in someone else´s skin yet; the body carried itself differently, and he felt like he was dragging it behind.

Dumbledore eyed them kindly through his half-moon-spectacles, but Draco´s gaze came to rest on Fawkes, who had just been reborn that very day and was still small and delicate. He was pulled out of his thoughts when Snape stepped up to him to shake his hand and wish him good luck in a solemn voice, something which caught Draco completely off guard. He looked at the potions teacher with bemusement, but Snape only nodded curtly and backed off again.

McGonagall, who seemed strangely tense, welcomed them to Gryffindor house, told them about the changes in staff, gave them their timetables and made it very clear that not even these particular circumstances justified any mischief whatsoever, and that the house rules equally applied for everybody.

"You should make sure to be careful around certain people," she added in a quiet voice which yet had a peculiar edge to it. "Especially when it comes to new teachers."

Draco did not understand, but Dumbledore gave the tiniest nod of consent at her words, having the former Slytherin wondering what they might mean. McGonagall then however gave Draco a small, reassuring smile; apparently, the tension he had sensed in her did not necessarily have to do with him.

When they finally scrambled through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room after McGonagall, Draco´s heart was beating rapidly against his ribs, but Harry Potter was not among all the faces that turned towards them; Draco couldn´t know that Harry had landed himself in detention with Umbridge on the very first day. Disappointment made itself known, yet Draco had no time to heed it; too many people were listening closely when McGonagall explained that the twins called Liam and Finn Bailey had arrived late due to their father´s unexpected relocation, and that the Sorting Hat had just sorted them into Gryffindor in the Headmaster´s office.

A small, friendly cheer arose, at which Draco felt himself blush furiously for reasons he didn´t know; his twin was simply grinning broadly.

Questions floated around them as soon as McGonagall had left, people wanted to know where they had come from, and some of the girls put their heads together and giggled; Draco blinked, feeling strangely detached from the turmoil, as though he was watching the crowd from above.

Malcolm took it on himself to answer for the both of them, telling the others in a confident voice that they had moved around a lot during the past ten years, having lived in Argentina last, as their dad worked for Gringotts, and that they had mostly had private lessons so far, since it had seemed the best solution due to their frequent moving.

Draco knew this story off by heart, of course: they had repeated it so often that he nearly believed it himself. He looked around at their fellow Gryffindors, whose faces were familiar from their mutual lessons with the Slytherins, and found that most of them were interestedly listening to Malcolm.

Only one pair of eyes was watching him attentively, catching him by surprise and making him flinch ever so slightly: Hermione Granger´s.

Draco felt himself blush once more; he felt uncomfortable and quickly looked away again. Could it be that she knew? No, he told himself, she couldn´t.

Dumbledore had assured him that only the Order members and Harry knew, that he wouldn´t tell even Harry´s best friends who the twins really were. For all Ron and Hermione officially knew, Draco had been brought to a safe and secret hiding place. Yet the way Granger was scrutinizing him made Draco uneasy, even though he told himself that she was close to Harry after all and might not tell anyone if she suspected something.

He put his hand in the pocket of his robes and nervously clutched the stone inside: it was a pebble, its surface smooth and pleasant against the skin; Harry had given it to Draco the day he had left. "It´s just a stone that I found years ago," he said, blushing furiously at the same time, "but I thought you might like it. It´s so smooth it nearly feels soft, but in reality it´s very tough. It´s like a secret you can keep in your pocket."

Draco had been too surprised to reply anything, he had just closed his fingers around the cool, small weight and had felt like weeping. "It´s a treasure," he had murmured against Harry´s neck after they had closed the distance between them: they had stood in front of each other awkwardly until both of them had made a tiny movement towards the other, and a moment later they had wrapped their arms around each other, seeking the other´s blessed nearness for one last time.

Even though it was painful for Draco to think of that moment now he firmly held on to the stone, because otherwise he might have fled, might have tried to find a place to hide from all the curious gazes and the noise around him. He pushed the thought of Harry away and concentrated on his surroundings with all his might, wondering where Harry might be.

He didn´t turn up until bedtime; Draco saw Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley exchange a glance before Ron shrugged minutely. Granger bit her lip, but followed the other girls to her dormitory nevertheless.

--

Relieved to escape the crowd, Draco followed Malcolm up the stairs. He was still being questioned by the Weasley twins, who tried to talk him into trying their newest products. They parted upstairs to go into their own dormitory, whereas Malcolm and Draco entered the fifth-years´ quarters. Just like the Gryffindor common room, it seemed much more cozy than Slytherin´s. Malcolm´s and Draco´s beds were standing next to each other.

While he quickly got into his night things, Draco surreptitiously looked around: Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were all there, as well as Ron Weasley who had already lain down. Only one bed seemed left empty, namely the one on Draco´s right, meaning that Harry would sleep next to him. Relief flooded through him; it wasn´t unexpected, yet he scolded himself for it. Remember what you promised yourself, he whispered in his mind.

Yet the knowledge that Malcolm was sleeping on his left didn´t even remotely calm him like the prospect of having Harry so near again.

Draco bid Malcolm goodnight, pulled the curtains close and settled down, far too agitated to go to sleep; it wasn´t too dark since the full moon illuminated the room, thus he thought he could could hear Seamus and Dean talking quietly: "Where do you reckon´s Malfoy now?" Dean asked.

"Dunno," Seamus murmured. "Don´t care, either- whatever´s happened to the slimy git serves him right in my opinion." This was followed by two hearty chuckles.

Draco drew in a shaky breath; he couldn´t blame them, yet it was hard to hear that.

The others had fallen asleep already when Harry finally came back. Shoulders slumped, he slowly advanced his bed, looking dead-tired in the pale light of the moon. Draco could see him through a gap of his curtains: Harry hesitated when he looked at the bed next to his, but he couldn´t see Draco.

"Harry," Draco said tentatively, his heart beating fast; he didn´t know that Malcolm had cast a silencing charm on his bed. Harry however, not having heard him, turned to his own bed after a few more seconds of motionless consideration, pulled on his pyjamas and slid under the blankets.

Draco closed his eyes, feeling betrayed and rejected: he should have known, he told himself, he _had_ known in fact. He tried to subdue the tears which fought to come out, but didn´t succeed. He was alone in the world again.

Harry lay awake, trying to ignore the pain in his right hand, and listened hard. Apart from the sounds of soft breathing and Neville´s occasional snores it was silent, nothing indicated wether Draco was still awake. _Draco_, Harry thought and smiled.

He had missed him thoroughly, had longed to see him so intensely that it almost hurt physically, and now he was there, right next to Harry, hopefully peacefully asleep. It took all his will power not to go over to the other bed. He knew he must not interfere, had to give Draco the chance to recuperate on his own, yet he would have loved nothing better than to sneak into his bed and take him into his arms no matter what he looked like.

He never heard the anxiously muffled, desperate sobs that came from exactly that bed.

--

Draco woke from the sounds of people getting up. For a moment he didn´t know where he was, but when his gaze fell on the crimson hangings of his four-poster bed, he remembered: he was in Gryffindor tower, and Harry had not even said hello. He lay quietly for a moment longer, listening to the others in the dormitory, then he miserably pulled back the curtains that faced Malcolm´s bed and got up.

Malcolm had already taken the Polyjuice Potion and looked at Draco in alarm. Only then did he realize that he had forgotten to change into his alter ego. He quickly got back into bed and reached for the bottle that was hidden underneath his pillow. When he emerged a few minutes later, he was sandy-haired Finn Bailey again, and nothing indicated that it was all a forgery.

Malcolm waited for him while he dressed, which made Draco nervous: "You don´t have to wait," he therefore said. "I´ll be fine."

"You look a bit off," Malcolm said in an undertone. "Everything all right?"

Draco nodded and turned away. He didn´t want this closeness right now, didn´t want his every step to be analyzed.

Malcolm shrugged and left the room together with the other boys.

Draco pulled on his robes and shoes, gathered his book bag and headed for the common room. At the door he nearly collided with someone: "Excuse..." his voice failed him as he looked into Harry´s green eyes.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly, misinterpreting the look of dismay on the other boy´s face.

Draco hesitated for a moment, not sure wether Harry even realized it was him: "Never mind," he ground out and, with an odd twist, dived out of the dormitory.

Harry looked after him in confusion. He did not have time to dwell on this, however, since he was piteously behind with his homework already due to the detention, and would even have to skip breakfast if he wanted to catch up at least a little.

--

Harry´s first lesson on that day was Divination. He hardly listened to Professor Trelawney as he was pondering the collision in the dormitory. Had that been Draco in disguise? Then why had he been so unaffable? Harry had of course no way of knowing what he´d look like yet, it might have been his "twin" as well. Maybe that guy had believed what he had read about Harry in the Daily Prophet as well he thought, scowling.

Harry´s day didn´t improve much; after Divination, they had transfiguration. He saw the new twins for the first time but was doing so poorly due to his missed homework during the lesson that he didn´t dare to try and look at them much or even catch Draco´s attention, as McGonagall seemed still cross with Harry about having jeopardized his safety when standing up to Umbridge.

During lunch hour he finally got to face the twins. Ron had already told him all about them, apparently not suspecting anything. Harry had not gone to the Great Hall since he intended to do his Care of Magical Creatures homework during that time; with a grumbling stomach he climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room and found one of the twins sitting in one of the stuffed chairs. Harry slowly advanced him, unsure how to react.

When the boy looked up and met his gaze, he paled visibly and froze; Harry saw that he was holding a pebble. His stomach lurched.

"Is it you?" Harry asked breathlessly, dropping his book bag. The sandy-haired boy suddenly looked defiant: "Who cares?" he said tonelessly, getting up. "It´s not exactly a surprise, is it?" With that, he made for the exit.

Harry was as confused as in the morning: what had he ever done wrong?

Frustatedly, he slumped down in the very same chair and pulled some parchment and his quill out of his bag.

--

Draco, or whom of the twins Harry supposed it was, avoided his gaze all afternoon, and in the evening Harry hurried off to his next detention right after Angelina Johnson had told him off for not being able to attend the Gryffindor Keeper tryouts on Friday.

He returned to Gryffindor tower late, with his hand aching fiercely and the desperate wish to go to bed, yet he couldn´t- if he didn´t do some homework, he´d be in serious trouble. So he sat in the deserted common room until the early morning, trying to get on top of things.

Things didn´t change the following day or the day after that, and by Friday night, Harry clung to the prospect that it would all be over on the following day. He would be able to get some sleep over the weekend and catch up with his homework, and most of all: detention was going to be over.

By the time that was the case late on Friday evening, Harry was positive that the words he had been forced to carve into his hand would form lasting scars. Something else had happend during detention though, something which had him worrying: his scar hurt again when Umbridge touched his hand.

It had happened occasionally over the summer and every time he had had a nightmare in Grimmauld Place, yet this was different and he couldn´t but wonder if it meant that she was in any way connected to Voldemort.

The only positive news were that Ron had been chosen as a keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team; Harry wished he could have been at the tryouts instead of in Umbridge´s office, mutilating himself. He winced at the pain when he fell into bed and was barely able to subdue a hiss; a moment later though, he had fallen asleep.

He woke very early, put his glasses on and saw that all the others were still asleep. He looked over at Draco´s bed longingly, but the curtains were drawn close, and it remained silent behind them.

Sighing, Harry got up; he knew he wouldn´t be able to go back to sleep, and it was a good opportunity to send an owl to had to know about the scar and about Hagrid´s absence.

He should have stayed in bed. Filch bore down on him in the Owlery, accusing him of ordering Dungbombs, which ensued a heated argument between him and Harry; Quidditch training, which he had been looking forward to all week, was a disaster, and Ron got a letter from Percy in which he basically advised his youngest brother to quit his friendship with Harry.

The rest of the weekend was spent with homework; Harry hardly ever saw the Bailey twins, as he and Ron had retreated to the library for some quiet.

--

If Harry had thought the first week had been bad, he hadn´t expected the second one to follow up on it.

Monday started off exceptionally bad when the Daily Prophet informed them that Dolores Umbridge had been appointed High Inquisitor at Hogwarts by Educational Decree Number Twenty-three.

The anger about this kept boiling within Harry; unfortunately for him, they had another DADA class that day in which he could vent his feelings, meaning another week´s worth of detention for him.

--

Draco had to tell himself to get a grip every night after he had gone to bed. He had thought things would improve once he´d be near Harry again, yet that didn´t seem to be the case- Harry was behaving oddly, pretending Draco wasn´t there, and seemed troubled. Of course Draco had witnessed Harry´s second outburst in DADA and couldn´t blame him- Umbridge was evil, that much was clear.

Draco had occasionally heard his father mention her; even though the older Malfoy considered her a silly bint, he respected her devotion to the Ministry. He had even explicitely said that she might come in handy one day, and now Draco had an inkling what his father had meant: Umbridge was about to bring Dumbledore down. He considered talking to the Headmaster and warn him, but then realized that it wasn´t necessary since the other teachers´ attitudes towards her were unmistakably hostile, if very subtly; undoubtedly they knew what was going on.

Yet Draco didn´t understand Harry´s behaviour. He had expected him to be much more distant than during the summer, but not to be ignored so completely. It was hard to know Harry was sleeping next to him but at the same time seemed as far away as Timbuktu.

Draco kept having nightmares; more than once had he been woken up by Malcolm, who had placed a notification charm on the bed as well, so he´d be alerted. The dreams were changing slightly during the second week, though: often it was Harry who was hurting Draco, who was telling him he was worthless, and the impact of this created a whole new range of horrors for the blond boy.

Thanks to Malcolm however, not only Harry didn´t seem to have noticed, but neither had the others.

Fortunately, at least daytime usually was packed enough to distract him. They had to work hard to keep up with their lessons, and he found that he enjoyed doing homework in the cozy Gryffindor common room. He and Malcolm became quite friendly with the others.

More than once, the subject of Draco Malfoy´s disappearance was being discussed, and it became clear how unpopular he was with the Gryffindors: "Maybe he´s got himself killed," George Weasley said lightly, "that´s one less future Death Eater to be worried about."

"Or maybe he´s got scared," Fred chimed in, "and is hiding in Daddy´s arms, the little poof."

"Right," George grinned broadly. "That´s all he could ever do anyway, right? Hiding behind Daddy while spitting his venom."

To Draco´s surprise, another voice unexpectedly cut in: "He didn´t choose his parents ," Hermione Granger said quietly.

Fred raised an eyebrow: "You are not tellling me you are suddenly taking his side Hermione, are you?"

She rolled her eyes: "All I´m saying is that he´s been taught crap all his life. He´s nothing more than a victim."

"Yeah, right," Ron murmured and exchanged a perplexed glance with his brothers.

Draco drooped his head, for once glad that Harry wasn´t there.

--

On top of all the strain he was under already, Harry was seeing disturbing stuff in his dreams: he was walking down hallways and ending up in front of locked doors he was desperate to get through for some reasons. An unpleasant tingling in his scar usually accompanied these. Thursday night, Harry woke up trembling and feeling nauseous. Cold sweat stood on his brow, and he was panting as though he had been running.

Tiredly, he got out of bed and went to the bathroom by the light of his wandtip. He splashed some cold water in his face and waited for the nausea to abate. When he returned to the dormitory, he saw a figure moving in the back of the room. His first instinct was to draw his wand, but then he realized it was one of the "twins".

Unthinkingly, he approached him instead of going back to bed. In the pale moonlight Harry could see that the Polyjuice Potion had worn off: he was facing a dark-haired, stoutly built wizard with a kind face, who had his wand at the ready.

"Excuse me," Harry whispered. "I haven´t gotten round to introduce myself." Malcolm lowered his wand: "Never do that again," he said, though grinning, "I could have obliviated you." They shook hands.

"Nice to meet you," Malcolm said.

"And you," Harry replied, but his eyes strayed over to Draco´s bed. "How is he?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Still having nightmares," Malcolm answered.

"Really?" Harry was slightly taken aback. "I didn´t hear anything."

"You couldn´t, I put a silencing charm on his bed as a precaution," Malcolm explained.

Harry could have hit himself. Of course.

"He´s been avoiding me," he murmured.

Malcolm eyed him attentively; he had not expected this. "I wouldn´t necessarily say so," he said. "He´s been quite off ever since we arrived here. It´s all a little too much for him. I wasn´t sure wether I should talk to you, you seemed to have enough on your plate already."

Harry nodded absently, chiding himself for not really having tried to talk to Draco; he´d been too preoccupied with his own problems. "Is he awake now?" he asked.

Malcolm nodded: "Had to wake him, he was dreaming again." "I´ll go see to him if you don´t mind."

"I don´t, just make sure no one sees you." With that, Malcolm went back to bed, wondering why if there was something going on he should have noticed.

--

Harry cautiously approached Draco´s bed and pulled the curtain back.

"Draco," he whispered. The figure under the blanket moved a fraction and sat up. Harry´s heart leapt as he finally looked into the familiar grey eyes again, which were staring at him as though he was an apparition.

"H-harry?" Draco´s voice was choked.

Harry quickly crawled onto the mattress and pulled the curtain behind him close, knowing no one was able to overhear them like this.

He looked Draco over in the light of his wand: he looked drawn, though differently than before. His features were still as delicate as Harry remembered them, and his eyes just as deep.

"Merlin, I missed you," Harry whispered.

Draco however seemed to shrink away from him: "I thought you didn´t want anything to do with me anymore," he whispered as well.

Harry leaned forward and caught his hands; they were cold, but Harry marvelled at how slender they were, slowly pulling Draco closer again at the same time: "Why would I do that?" he asked.

"I called you when you got back here in my first night... you didn´t even answer..."

"I´m so sorry," Harry said, gasping: "Malcolm cast a silencing charm on your bed, didn´t you know? He just told me!"

Draco stared at him, feeling infinitely stupid and relieved at the same time. He should have known; it was Malcolm´s job to keep him and his cover safe, of course he´d do something like that.

Harry read Draco´s face and didn´t ask any more questions. He simply pulled him close until he had him in his arms, cradling the other boy and letting out a breath he didn´t know he´d been holding.

Draco held on to him as though Harry had just saved him from drowning. "I´m so sorry," Harry repeated in a whisper.

They stayed like this for a long time, savouring the feel of the other´s warm body, until they began to shiver in the cold night air.

"Can you stay with me?" Draco murmured. Instead of a verbal reply, Harry shifted around until they were both lying down, never letting go of Draco. The warm fuzzy feeling was back in his belly, and he could feel the horrors of the past weeks fall off of him while he was holding the blond boy in his arms.

They nestled against each other comfortably, feeling whole again.

--

Neither of them wanted to go to sleep, for these moments were too precious.

Draco was lying on his stomach half on top of Harry again, his face nestled against Harry´s throat; he deeply inhaled Harry´s scent and immdiately felt at home.

The dark-haired boy was stroking him tenderly, retracing the sea-shell that was his ear and running his fingers through the soft hair at his neck.

"How are you holding up?" Harry asked softly into Draco´s hair after a while. "Okay," Draco murmured, not wanting to delve into the subject now.

Harry gingerly tightened his grip around him: "I missed you," he repeated. "Terribly."

A tingling, pleasant warmth spread through Draco at these words, and he felt happiness welling up in him.

He turned his head ever so slightly and shyly kissed the soft skin of Harry´s neck, just underneath his chin: "I missed you, too," he whispered.

.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	14. You know

_Hey all_, here´s the latest chapter! I just want to say thank you once more for the overwhelming feedback,

I highly appreciate your reading and reviewing!

_Additional warning_: definitely some form of slash from now on!

_Just so as to avoid confusion_: Draco will be referred to either as Draco or Finn Bailey, whereas Malcolm is either called Malcolm or Liam Bailey.

Enjoy!

**-o-  
**

**Chapter 14: You know  
**

**-o-O-o-**

-

Eventually, they fell asleep.

Harry briefly woke at one point, for a moment anxious that it might only have been a dream, but then he felt Draco´s warm weight against his body and his belly fluttered once more. Draco stirred and turned around in Harry´s arms, nestling against his chest; he felt frail as his shoulder blades were distinctly noticeable and his arms were very thin, yet he was so warm and precious in Harry´s arms that the scarred boy went back to sleep smiling.

When Harry woke up next the grey light of dawn had crept into the room already, and he knew he had to leave Draco´s bed if he didn´t want to be caught. Draco had turned around in his arms yet again, he seemed to have slept rather fitfully. At least he hadn´t had any more nightmares, Harry thought. The backs of Draco´s hands were dug into Harry´s t-shirt once again, and he was sleeping with his mouth slightly open.

Harry gently stroked Draco´s hair; in the first light of day he could see that the dark smudges underneath the blond´s eyes had grown during the past few weeks, and he looked somewhat exhausted.

Tenderly, Harry´s fingers caressed Draco´s ear once more before he propped himself up on his elbow. Draco stirred as his hands slipped away from the warmth; blinking slowly, he sleepily looked up at Harry. "Got to go," Harry whispered, taking one of Draco´s hands up in his own and kissing it.

Draco looked pleased at that; giving Harry a shy smile, he pulled Harry´s hand close and nuzzled his cheek against it before reluctantly letting to. Harry, feeling almost giddy, tucked the blond back in and stroked over his hair once more before leaving their little shelter of privacy. The others were still asleep.

While Harry snuck back to his own bed, Draco buried his face in the spot of the pillow where Harry had been; his scent was still there, comforting and familiar. Draco´s heart was thumping almost painfully because he already missed Harry again.

How he wished that Harry would be with him every single night from here to eternity! It pained him to know that this had been a one-time occasion; he knew he mustn´t ask Harry for a repetition, as it would be too dangerous, and apart from that he had promised himself not to bother the other anymore.

Taking a deep breath, he forcefully pushed those thoughts aside and allowed himself to indulge in the reminder of this one night and the feeling of utter and complete safety.

-

For Harry, the day seemed incredibly bright despite the torrential rain that was falling outside. He didn´t mind being behind in his lessons so much any more, and he wasn´t bothered as much by the thought of that night´s detention.

Whenever he looked at Finn Bailey, he received a silent reply. It was strange to know that the sandy-haired, slightly freckled boy actually was Draco, and he was glad that the Polyjuice Potion didn´t last 24 hours. Finn was quite good-looking, but he paled in comparison with Draco.

During their History of Magic lesson Harry, unaware that he was completely seeing things through rose-coloured glasses in addition to his own, tranquilly mused about the blond´s soft, light hair, his deep grey eyes and his delicate features, at times making him look as though he were an angel. Harry nearly snorted at this comparison of his, but a small voice in his head defiantly said it was true; when Draco was relaxed and not sneering at anyone, something Harry hadn´t seem him doing since last term, he possessed an almost celestial beauty.

At this, Harry positively blushed and looked around, but he hadn´t said it out loud. _How on earth_ had he come up with that one just now? Blushing once more, he tried to concentrate on what Professor Binns was telling them, but soon was distracted again by the thought of Draco´s soft skin and how his body felt in Harry´s arms.

He sighed, aloud this time but completely unaware of the puzzled looks this earned him from Hermione and Ron.

That evening, he returned to Gryffindor tower even later than the night before; his hand was searing with pain, but he hadn´t wanted to give Umbridge the satisfaction of caving in, thus he had stubbornly continued to write "I must not tell lies" until she had told him to stop.

He tiredly scrambled through the portrait hole; the common room was empty save for a few seventh-years who were playing a game of gobstones by the fire.

Harry nodded towards them and headed up the stairs; it was dark in his dormitory, yet he couldn´t know wether the others were asleep already. He quickly changed into his night clothes, got into his bed and pulled the hangings close, then he wrapped himself in his Invisibility Cloak and slid through the curtains that were facing Draco´s bed.

He walked around it, feeling slightly stupid but not heeding it, as it was being drowned out by his rapidly beating heart; he dropped the cloak so as not to startle Draco, and cautiously pulled the curtains apart a little, putting his head through: "It´s me, Harry," he quickly whispered. "Are you still awake?"

Draco hardly dared to believe his ears. He had heard Harry coming in and getting into his bed; he had then buried his head under his blanket in order to try and remain calm, in order to tell himself that there was no point in getting up and upset Harry just because he, Draco was pathetic and couldn´t pull himself together and longed for his company. He sat up, facing Harry: "Yes, I am..." "Can I come in?"

Draco nodded and moved aside, lifting the blanket so that Harry could slip under it. The dark-haired boy scrambled in, carefully pulling the curtains close behind him and depositing the Invisibility Cloak at the foot of the bed before turning towards Draco. He didn´t need the light of his wand this time to find the other´s eyes, as the moon shone brightly through a gap in the clouds.

"H-harry," Draco said, sounding as though he was choking on his own words. "What are you doing here? I know you´ve got a lot on your plate... you don´t have to-"

Harry cut across him: "I know," he said lightly and a little amused, "as you have told me so repeatedly."

His voice was gentle and soft as he continued: "What if I am doing this for me as well?"

Draco remained silent, speechless, and Harry´s stomach plunged: had he gone too far and put Draco under pressure again?

"I-I´m sorry,"he gasped, "I didn´t mean to be rash- if you want me to leave-" He broke off when he suddenly felt Draco´s arms around his shoulders, pulling him close with surprising strength.

"No, stupid," Draco mumbled into Harry´s hair, "Of course I don´t!"

Harry could have wept with relief and immediately returned the embrace, holding Draco to himself tenderly: "Good," he replied, somewhat shakily, "because I think this is exactly where I should be."

-

When they pulled apart after a while, he felt the blond´s hand touching his face, his fingertips shyly ghosting over his cheek; his gaze followed their path, and Harry read appreciation in it. Draco took his time in exploring Harry´s face, the sensation sending a pleasant tremor through the dark-haired boy.

"You know, in... in the bathroom," Draco murmured eventually, his eyes wide in the pale moonlight as he sought Harry´s gaze, his hand never leaving the other´s face. Harry´s heart accelerated and his belly fluttered worse than ever: "Yes?" he whispered.

Draco swallowed nervously, slowly leaning forward: "When you did this..."

Harry closed his eyes, leaning forward as well. His ears were filled with the sound of his own blood rushing loudly, and his heart was meanwhile beating in his throat, but when Draco´s lips very tenderly touched his own, suddenly everything fell into place, and it was all right.

After a few seconds, the pressure increased slightly; Draco´s lips were soft and dry and gentle, seeking to explore Harry´s. They gently nuzzled each other´s, patiently and unhurriedly.

Pulling apart after what seemed a blissfull eternity, they looked at each other overwhelmedly. For the first time since he could remember, Harry found neither anxiety nor insecurity in Draco´s eyes. He reached up and touched Draco´s cheek, mirroring the blond´s gentle caress: "I remember that, yes," Harry whispered. "And _then_ you did this..." he added and leaned forward once more.

A few hours later, Harry was still wide awake while Draco had finally fallen asleep. He was so happy he felt like he was going to burst, and he subconsciously tightened his embrace around the other, who had resumed his seemingly favourite position half on top of Harry again, so that he could feel the other´s heartbeat against his own. Harry finally dozed off as well, listening to Draco´s soft breathing.

Draco woke slowly, his neck feeling slightly stiff. When he raised his head to flex it, he noticed two things: that he had drooled on the hem of Harry´s shirt, which had him blushing a little, and that he had a hard-on, which had him blushing up to the ears until they felt like they were glowing red.

Petrified, he considered what to do- he could get up, quickly take the Polyjuice and escape to the bathroom, or he could try to will _it_ away. After a moment´s contemplation, he decided for the second option.

He had no wish to get up, as he felt too comfortable, and it still seemed quite early. He didn´t want to miss any time in the form of his normal self with Harry than necessary. He nestled his cheek back against Harry´s neck, careful not to touch the wet spot, and tried to distract himself from the warm body he was snuggled up with, or Harry´s soft skin, or the thought of how his amazingly green eyes lit up when the boy smiled, but it was no good, therefore he cautiously turned around until he lay on his side once more, his back pressed against Harry´s side until the dark-haired boy turned over as well, still deeply asleep, and curled up around Draco, who nodded off again after a while, feeling safe and secure.

-

By the end of the third week, two things had been decided: first of all, Hermione, Ron and Harry would try to form a self-help group. If Umbridge wouldn´t let them practice how to defend themselves, they would do it on their own.

Harry had been very reluctant when Hermione had suggested it at first, but had agreed in the end- he felt so helpless against the toad, and to know that he was actively participating in undermining her gave him a feeling of grim pleasure. Hermione was spreading the word among people she considered trustworthy, and it seemed that quite a few were interested, thus she set up a meeting in the Hog´s Head on the following Saturday, on which conveniently the first Hogsmeade trip of the year had been scheduled.

Furthermore, Harry invariably spent each night in Draco´s bed. He didn´t care wether he had to get up early every morning in order not to be caught, all that mattered was that the nights made up for all he had to endure during the days.

Umbridge´s regime had him seething with fury every time he saw her, and he didn´t know how we would have coped with it if he didn´t have Draco´s company to look forward to. Ron and Hermione were with him most of the time, of course, but there was so little time during the day, so little opportunity to recuperate. And it simply was no good that they told him to ignore Umbridge, to not oppose her- he would have landed himself in detention yet again.

He was grateful for the trust his friends put in him, but his heart was with Draco; he yearned to be near him, and no one else was able to appropriately substitute for him, not even his alter ego in disguise, Finn Bailey. Harry rather did not spend too much time in his close proximity, for it felt weird.

The other Gryffindors, however, had easily welcomed and included the twins, who were now fully integrated. Draco had to admit however that it was mainly Malcolm´s doing, since he had been the one who had taken over the talking.

Only after he and Harry had reconciled had Draco assembled the strength to truly face the new situation.

A few days later had found Ron and him playing a game of chess; Draco still didn´t know what to think of it, but apparently the red-head, who had sought someone to distract him from his homework, wasn´t bad company at all.

Once more, Draco inwardly hung his head in shame, remembering how many times he had verbally abused him and his family. Ron´s chess set was old and bashed-up, and he actually apologized to Finn for it.

Draco felt Finn´s face flush, and fumbled for something to reply: "I guess you know them well then," he mumbled, motioning towards the chess men. Ron´s face immediately lit up: "I suppose," he said, much less embarassed, and began setting the pieces up.

-

The meeting in the Hog´s Head started off a little odd because of Harry´s mentioning that Lord Voldemort was back, yet most of the people did not seem to have come only to hear the details of Cedric´s death, as Harry had feared, but because they had realized that they very likely would not pass their OWL in Defence Against the Dark Arts if they merely attended Umbridge´s lessons.

The time and location of the group´s first meeting still had to be decided, but Harry had felt a great deal better when they left the Hog´s Head, not least simply because things had been set in motion now.

Finn and Liam Bailey had been amongst those who had come to the assembly, much to Malcolm´s chagrin; he didn´t approve of the group at all, not because of their goal but because it was greatly jeopardizing both Draco´s and Harry´s safety in his opinion.

In a rather heated argument he had tried to talk Draco out of it, the blond boy however had not budged; he had seen Harry´s hand and had ever since had a cold knot in his stomach every time he thought of Umbridge, since her cruel and not exactly subtle method of punishment only confirmed his worst fears about her.

Harry had been reluctant to tell him about it at first, but it was too late: after only one look at the heavily scabbed words Draco had set his jaw firmly, taken a deep breath in order to try and keep his anxiety under control, and had decided not to let her get through with this. It didn´t even matter wether she really was in league with Voldemort, but she couldn´t get the opportunity to build up a reign of terror at Hogwarts and make way for even more Ministry interference.

The self-help group had provided the perfect means to take a first step towards this newfound sense of rebellion, thus Finn had informed his twin that he wanted to go. Liam eyed him attentively: "Does this have to do with Umbridge or rather with Potter?" he asked quietly.

Finn blushed furiously: "Leave Potter out of it," he replied heatedly.

Liam shrugged: "Hey, no need to lose your temper," he said evenly. "I am not critizising him, as I am well aware what he is doing for you."

He was indeed- ever since his and Harry´s nightly encounter Draco´s nightmares seemed to have abated significantly, and no more alarms had woken Malcolm. He knew that Harry had slipped into Draco´s bed each night since then, and once more wondered if they had something going on between them, but didn´t want to ask. He felt that he would be intruding on their privacy, and he didn´t mind after all. He just didn´t want Draco to put himself into danger.

However, despite still being frail, Draco proved to be amazingly stubborn, that´s why Malcolm had finally given in. It would at least keep Draco occupied, and if Potter really was that good in defending himself, the training might build up Draco´s self-esteem after all.

-

Harry had decided to setting his wand to wake him from now on; thus he was being disturbed out of slumber by an incessant tapping on his head early on Monday morning. Annoyed, he murmured "Finite" and tightened his grip around Draco once more to enjoy a few more precious minutes before leaving. He would never have expected to actually be missing his room at the Dursleys´ house one day, but now he did: he and Draco had had something akin to privacy at last.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep, and took inventory of the sight he was greeted with; a few wisps of fair hair, the curve of a cheekbone, dark eyelashes against light skin.

Harry couldn´t but place a very gentle kiss on Draco´s temple, and then another one on his cheek, remaining with his lips against the other´s skin for a moment, savouring the softness, before lying back down.

Draco sighed and, waking up, slowly turned his head towards Harry a little. When he opened his eyes and their gazes met, Harry felt his stomach giving an almost painful jolt.

Draco sleepily smiled at him: Harry´s eyes were wide and wondering, as though he didn´t know what had hit him. He looked unbelievable cute, and Draco felt an armada of butterflies doing somersaults in his stomach once more.

"I love you," he murmured without realizing at first what he had said. Harry´s eyes went even wider, and a moment later it hit Draco, and his eyes matched Harry´s: equally startled green and silver, mirroring the same cautious serendipity that made Draco gasp and Harry gape.

Before Draco could panic however, before he could chide himself for being so reckless, Harry´s gaping slowly turned into a smile. It wasn´t a smile of contempt, as Draco noticed in dazed astonishment, but his face and his eyes lit up with joy: he looked beautiful and happy.

"I love you," Draco therefore repeated softly, liking the sound of it and feeling the truth behind it.

Harry cupped Draco´s cheek with a trembling hand, gently caressing his temple with his fingertips: "You know, " he said, a little hoarsely from the excitement, but still smiling, and studied Draco´s eyes for a moment, "I love you, too." And he leaned in to kiss the blond boy once more, his lips tingling.

Draco propped himself up a little and moved closer, never breaking the kiss, until Harry slowly pulled him on top of himself; their breath hitched at this intense body contact, and the kiss deepened.

For the first time, the tip of Harry´s tongue slowly explored Draco´s lips before demanding entrance. Somewhere in the back of his mind Draco wondered wether he should be afraid, wether he should be disturbed by this new position and all that it implied, but the feeling was too good altogether, the warmth in his belly too pleasant and the sensation of his and Harry´s hearts beating so close together too intimate to worry about anything.

He felt as safe as before, secure in Harry´s arms. Harry, who had said he loved him as well... a new surge of affection, relief and joy spread through Draco, causing him to meet Harry´s reckless tongue with his own, letting the feel of its gentle massage wash over him.

Draco´s gaze was unfathomable when they pulled back. Harry reached up and tenderly smoothed the blond´s fine, light hair away from his eyes: "I hope this isn´t only a dream," he whispered.

Slowly, Draco broke into a smile and nudged the tip of Harry´s nose with his own: "It can´t be," he replied in a whisper as well, "I don´t think a dream could feel so right..."

Harry stared at him, falling in love with him all over again, and pulled him close until Draco´s head rested against the dark-haired boy´s neck.

Draco wound his arms around Harry as well, and thus they stayed, holding each other tight and reveling in their happiness, until it finally was high time for Harry to leave.

-

He felt like walking on clouds; he wanted to sing, to dance, to tell everyone who would listen that he was in love with Draco Malfoy- he wanted to shout it out, wanted the others to feel equally happy.

He knew of course that that was impossible, yet he couldn´t but grin while he and Ron walked down the stairs on their way to breakfast.

Only a few seconds later however he was being brought back down to earth rather ungently.

A large sign on the noticeboard informed him and his fellow Gryffindors that by Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four all kinds of students´ groups and organizations were cancelled and that the re-forming of any such had to be approved by Umbridge.

The meaning behind this only hit Harry a few seconds later, and he felt the meanwhile familiar surge of fury in his stomach. With a sinking feeling, he wondered if he and the others had been overheard in the pub when planning their secret Defense Against the Dark Arts meetings.

He didn´t have much time pondering this, however, since he turned to face Angelina Johnson, whose face was white: "Do you know what that means?" she said without further preamble. "We have to ask permission for re-forming the Quidditch team!"

Harry looked at her, lost for words, and suddenly had a feeling of foreboding. He opened his mouth to speak but still didn´t know what to say, as his mind was reeling: why didn´t Dumbledore intervene, why did he let Umbridge do all this?

The answer Harry did not want to give himself was so terrible that Harry wanted to clamp his hands over his ears and start to yell, only to drown out the little, persistent voice in the back of his head, yet he sensed that it was true: _because he couldn´t_.

It felt like a giant was trying to sweep Harry off his feet when the realization fully sank in. Ignoring his ashen face, Angelina made him promise not to upset Umbridge any further for the sake of the Gryffindor team; after she had left, Harry stood rooted to the spot for a while, hardly listening to Ron and Hermione abusing Umbridge.

Numbly, Harry finally looked up and found himself face to face with Finn Bailey. The slightly freckled boy stared at him with an equally shocked expression, but then his expression suddenly changed, and his face broke into the smallest of smiles, daring and full of mischief.

He passed by Harry while the dark-haired boy still stared at him, and murmured a few words so quietly that only Harry could hear them: "We won´t let them."

**--**

**To Be Continued**

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	15. Something New

Hi there, without further ado- oh no, wait. _Warnings_ for this chapter: a little lemony snippet! Read for yourself:

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**Chapter 15: Something New  
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Enjoy!

-

The brief episode with Finn had given Harry enough heart to at least drink a cup of tea and eat some dry toast for breakfast, even though he was still upset.

During History of Magic, their first subject of the day, Harry´s thoughts however soon drifted off to Draco again, causing his heart to beat rapidly and the wild joy he had felt earlier to reignite.

He had never before felt like this, as he had never been... well, in love, as he realized while he was sitting there, unaware that he was touching his lips in wonderment as he recalled kissing the blond.

He had admittedly had a crush on Cho Chang, but that had been nothing in comparison to this... he couldn´t wait until tonight, he yearned for Draco, to be close to him again, for a minute worrying if the attraction was merely physical, but then he shook his head no, he knew it was not... he had seen parts of Draco´s soul during the time in Privet Drive, had been introduced to a side of the blond boy he never had expected to exist, had shared more than just a room with him... and now their bond had grown even more, had been named and acknowledged by both of them.

Harry thought of his love´s beautiful grey eyes, eyes that had confirmed what Draco had told him, eyes that had spoken of love... Harry grinned blissfully again, too lost in fond memories at first to notice that Ron was tugging at his sleeve: "Harry," he whispered, "Harry!"

Jerking back to reality, Harry jumped: "What?"

Ron motioned towards the window, and only now did Harry notice that Hedwig was perching outside. Wondering why she hadn´t brought him his mail during breakfast, Harry went to the window to let her in, completely unnoticed by Professor Binns, who was droning on about giant wars.

Instead of holding out her leg for Harry to untie the letter, Hedwig stepped onto his arm with an awkward swaying movement, and gave a low, miserable hoot. Harry´s stomach lurched when he saw that her left wing seemed to be injured and that she looked a little battered altogether. She flinched when Harry made to touch her, and seemed to be trembling. "It´s all right, Hedwig," he murmured anxiously, "you´ll be okay."

Under the pretense of feeling unwell he quickly left the classroom, hiding his owl behind his back, and went straight to the staff-room; as Hagrid wasn´t around, who certainly would´ve been glad to help, Harry decided to find his substitute, Professor Grubbly-Plank.

Cautiously cradling the injured bird close, Harry knocked on the door, his heart thumping. To his relief, it was Professor McGonagall who opened. "Tell me you haven´t had another tete-a-tete with Professor Umbridge," she said faintly.

Shaking his head, Harry explained about his owl and how she had arrived. After Professor Grubbly-Plank had taken Hedwig from Harry (who would never forget the look of disbelieving reproach the snowy owl gave him when she was being carried away), McGonagall held Harry back for a moment: "I assume Hedwig has come from London?" she asked in a hushed voice. Harry nodded. The old witch imitated this gesture while looking down on her hands: "The communication to and from Hogwarts might be watched," she said, still in an undertone but meaningful nevertheless. "Just so you know."

"Oh," Harry said, calling himself an idiot for not having thought about that earlier. "I see."

While Professor McGonagall retreated into the staff-room, Harry remained where he was for a moment, a shudder running down his spine as he realized that he very probably was lucky that Hedwig was still alive.

-

After having read the letter Harry felt a great deal more reassured, even though it was only a short notice from Sirius, but it confirmed a meeting with him of sorts, and Harry suddenly was glad for his godfather´s care.

Harry had written to him about Umbridge and Hagrid´s mysterious absence, and craved for some answers. The scroll of parchment appeared untouched and the seal intact; it seemed that Hedwig had put up enough of a fight not to let anyone get to it. Harry felt a pang of worry for her and decided to go visit her later.

Hermione voiced her concerns that someone might know about the letter nevertheless, claiming that a seal could be easily renewed, and thus might know about the meeting. But Harry decided that he already had gotten enough new things to worry about that early in the day, and was determined not to heed her words.

This resolve got him through the rest of the day; he hastily shoved down a bit of steak-and - kidney pie for lunch as he wanted to go look after Hedwig. When he left the Great Hall, he ran straight into Finn. Both of them blushed furiously.

"Where are you going?" Finn´s voice quietly asked with Draco´s evident affection in it: Harry looked positively cute, flushed as he was.

Harry quickly explained about Hedwig: "That´s why I left Binns´ lesson so suddenly," he added.

"Would you mind if I came with you?" Finn tried to sound casual, but Harry heard the nervous quaver in his voice and found it adorable.

"Yeah, sure," he said, "why not."

Together, they hurried off to find Professor Grubbly-Plank, who luckily was in her office. "Come on in," she said jovially, chewing on her pipe. "Your owl will be fine in a few days, but she shouldn´t fly long distances for a while. Magnificient bird, by the way."

Harry was relieved to see Hedwig. She was sitting on the table on a sort of flat pillow, resting comfortably on her stomach like a chicken. Her wing had been splinted and she looked less ruffled; it seemed that Professor Grubbly-Plank knew what she was doing.

Harry knelt down next to the low table: "Hey baby," he said softly and gently stroked the owl, who had raised her head excitedly at the sight of him. She blinked at him and clicked her beak a few times before nibbling at his fingers affectionately.

Harry, feeling profundly relieved to know that she would recover, was so preoccupied with his pet that he flinched when Finn knelt down next to them. "May I?" he asked. Harry nodded and pulled his hand back.

Finn cautiously stroked Hedwig´s back, careful not to get near the injured wing. "Good girl," he murmured. Harry watched them; during the time at the Dursleys Hedwig had gotten used to Draco being around, yet she couldn´t know that this was him, right? Nevertheless she held perfectly still as this stranger touched her.

"We have to go, but you´re obviously in good hands here," Harry told her when it was time to leave. "Get well quickly, okay?"

Hedwig only blinked her large eyes at him.

"You´re very attached to her," Finn stated after they had thanked Professor Grubbly-Plank and left.

Harry shrugged and nodded: "She was the first good friend and companion I ever had in Privet Drive," he said, "and I got her on the day I was told that I was a wizard. She´s very special."

"You called her _baby_," Finn murmured, his voice very soft. "I liked how caring that sounded."

Harry looked at him, for a moment unsure wether the other boy actually meant it or was pulling his leg, but then broke into a sheepish smile: "Yeah, well... I sometimes can´t repress it."

Laughing, they made their way to their next classes.

-

That day´s blows however weren´t over yet; after dinner that night, Angelina announced that Umbridge hadn´t approved the Gryffindor Quidditch team yet, which meant that they weren´t allowed to practice either.

The mood was rather subdued that evening, thus everyone went to bed quite early.

Using his Invisibility Cloak, Harry climbed into Draco´s bed and explained that he had to go down into the Gryffindor common room once more, as he would be meeting his godfather, who would use the fire to talk to him.

Draco knew about Sirius, as Harry had told him about him, and looked at Harry in awe, his eyes widening: "Tell him to be careful," he said. Harry´s heart leapt at this, and he leaned forward to steal a kiss from Draco´s lips: "You´re wonderful," he said. "I´ll be back soon."

It turned out that Sirius knew about the plan to form a self-help group, as Mundungus Fletcher had been in the Hog´s Head in disguise and had overheard them. They were still discussing the topic, Harry noticing that Sirius was actually approving of the idea to help themselves, much to the boy´s surprise, when they suddenly were interrupted.

Sirius vanished within seconds, and a moment later a hand appeared in the fire, a stubby, fat little hand that undoubtably belonged to Dolores Umbridge.

Furiously, Harry paced up and down the common room for a while, yet Sirius did not appear again. When it was clear that he wouldn´t show up anymore, Harry tiredly climbed up the stairs to the dormitory. He didn´t stop by his own bed, but went straight to Draco´s.

The blond had dozed off already, not entirely waking up when Harry joined him; he simply turned around and slung his arms around Harry´s neck, allowing himself to be pulled half on top of the other boy. Harry tightly held on to him, grateful that he was not alone.

Umbridge might try to destroy everything that was good in Harry´s life, but he still had Draco. He deeply inhaled the blond´s unique scent and closed his eyes, glad to finally be able to end this long, long day.

When he woke up early the following morning however, Harry couldn´t but think about the events of the previous day. Umbridge had known that someone would contact Harry, which meant that the attack on Hedwig had indeed been the purpose for intercepting Harry´s mail and that the toad had read his letter.

He remembered how Filch had accused him of ordering dungbombs and only now understood that that had been another attempt of finding an excuse to read Harry´s mail. Harry grit his teeth to keep the furious growl which was threatened to escape him from doing so. He meanwhile hated Umbridge with a passion; everything she did only increased his animosity.

He was startled out of his dark mood however when Draco stirred in his arms, yawning widely with his eyes still closed, showing all his throat like a lion. Harry´s anger evaporated immediately and he couldn´t but laugh. Draco opened one eye in confusion: "´s so funny?" he slurred drowsily, rubbing his eyes.

"Thanks for not eating me," Harry replied, still grinning. Draco frowned at him before he understood and blushed most charmingly.

He delicately hid another yawn behind his hand: "Idiot," he then murmured affectionately.

-

Much to everybody´s relief, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team got the approval to play soon afterwards; Angelina had turned to McGonagall, who, being an avid fan herself, had talked to Umbridge.

Despite the first training session taking place during torrential rain, Harry found himself taking a deep breath once he had kicked off from the ground; flying provided such an overwhelming freedom that it temporarily minimized all his other worries.

Soaking wet but happy, Harry trudged into the changing rooms after practice.

He was listening to the Weasley twins´ discussion of their newest products of Wizarding Wheezes when suddenly a jolt of pain erupted through his scar. He hissed and nearly doubled over, clutching his towel tightly.

Ron immediately was by his side: "All right, Harry?" he asked in an undertone. Harry pressed a hand against his scar while he was riding out the pain: "Yes, I´m... I´m fine..." the last words came out as a hiss, since the pain intensified once more before finally receding.

Taking deep breaths, he straigthened up again and met Ron´s worried gaze: "Did you see... you-know-who?" the red-head whispered. Harry shook his had and sat down, his knees suddenly feeling like jelly: "It´s more like... blurred images and... emotions. He´s angry."

Ron sat down next to him, listening raptly with wide eyes. "How do you know?" he asked.

Harry shrugged: "I can´t say... it´s.. it´s just there. I can feel it. Your guess is as good as mine." He fell silent; there was nothing more to say.

Ron however sought Harry´s gaze once more: "Are you... all right otherwise?" he asked almost timidly. "I´ve noticed that you´re sleeping with your hangings shut all the time. Still having nightmares?"

"Occasionally," Harry said, feeling a rush of fondness at Ron´s concern, "but I find I sleep better when it´s a little darker around me." He was ashamed of lying to his best friend, but there was no other way right then.

"Oh, "Ron said, apparently relieved. "Okay. You know you can wake me anytime if something´s wrong, right?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded and gave the red-head a smile. "I will."

-

That evening, Harry felt far too agitated to go to bed early. He was tired from Quidditch practice and knew that Draco was probably wondering what kept him, yet he couldn´t bring himself to go lie down, not when so many questions were reeling in his mind.

Why did he experience Voldemort´s feelings? Why now? And why had Voldemort been so furious?

He sat down frustratedly, half-heartedly leafing through his Charms textbook when a loud_ Crack_ had him flinch; it was Dobby, who was bringing back Hedwig. Harry was happy to see her; he was even happier when it turned out that the house-elf knew a place where the 27 pupils who had so far signed up for the Defense Against the Dark Arts self-help group and himself could meet.

It was called the "Room of Requirement" and seemed to be perfect for their endeavour, since it only opened if one knew exactly what to ask for; the respective person had to had a real need for it.

Harry´s spirits had lifted considerably after Dobby had left again, thus he let Hedwig out of the window so she could retire in the owlery, then went upstairs and to bed.

It was past midnight already, and Harry´s bones felt like lead now that the adrenaline had worn off a little. He changed into his pyjamas and snuck over to Draco´s four-poster, quickly crawling through the hangings; his love was fast asleep already, and Harry´s tiredness made him follow suit.

Harry awoke to a tender, light touch as Draco was caressing his face. He blinked and looked into the now so familiar grey eyes which were beholding him. The blond´s fingertips moved over Harry´s cheekbone and halted at his temple: "Good morning," Draco whispered and crawled nearer towards Harry, who smiled at him: "Early bird," he murmured, gently pulling Draco close until their faces were only millimetres apart: "I like waking up like this..." They gently and unhurriedly kissed.

Harry told Draco about Hedwig´s recovery and the Room of Requirement, which the blond considered brilliant: "Not even Umbridge will find us in there," he said excitedly. Harry was happy about this still unusual and heartfelt determination, though inwardly he couldn´t but worry a little; he knew about the risks he was putting himself and the others through, yet with Draco it was even worse.

If anyone found out about his disguise, his very life would be in danger. Harry kept these thoughts to himself, though; Draco had only just begun to take heart again, and the dark-haired boy didn´t want him to lose his newly found spiritedness. He had lost too much already.

-

The Room of Requirement proved to be exactly what Harry had hoped for. It was large enough that 28 people could practice duelling comfortably; there were cushions on the floor which would come in handy for practicing charms which might send people flying, shelves with books about Self-Defense and a range of Dark detectors like those Harry had seen in Professor Moody´s office.

The assembled Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked around in awe. There was only one boy which seemed slightly suspicious of the meeting´s outcome, by the name of Zacharias Smith. He pointed to a rather large Sneakoscope which was spinning madly; of course, Harry thought and caught Liam Bailey´s eyes, it knew that something was not quite right, that two people were using a bodily disguise.

Harry shortly explained about the Sneakoscope: "Dark detectors are easily fooled, though," he then added as if waving it off, "don´t worry about that..."

Smith didn´t seem particularly reassured by it, but remained silent.

Hermione insisted that the group should find a name: "It makes it more official," she said with gleaming eyes, "and I think we also should elect a leader!"

"Harry´s leader," Finn said at once and then blushed furiously when everyone else looked at him.

Hermione smiled: "Yes, but let´s vote on it properly nevertheless," she replied. "To make it formal and give him authority." "Right," Finn murmured, still very red in the face. He fortunately didn´t notice that Fred and George Weasley were elbowing each other grinningly.

It was thus agreed that their group was going to be called the "DA"- short for Defense Association, or, much more popular, _Dumbledore´s Army_.

They teamed up in pairs and started with the most basic disarming charm, _Expelliarmus_; some people frowned at this at first, but it turned out that only few of the group managed to successfully disarm their partners, since they had learned it some time ago and had hardly practiced it in between.

Harry watched the progress the others were making, and felt oddly proud when he saw that Finn managed to disarm his twin- as an Auror, Malcolm was bound to have the upper hand, yet Draco managed to catch him unawares a few times.

Finn blushed when he met Harry´s gaze and saw the approving nod the dark-haired wizard gave him, and was promptly disarmed himself due to the moment of inattention.

Cho Chang was there as well; while Harry watched her practice with her friend Marietta, he wondered what ever had attracted him to her; she was admittedly very pretty, but so very different from Draco, apart from the whole gender issue...

-

When they were lying in bed later, Draco was still so exhilarated that he couldn´t lie still; Harry grinned because of the other´s elation about something so simple, but he knew that for Draco it meant much more than just having managed a spell: it meant he was taking his life back into his own hands, and that he could do it.

He stroked Draco´s hair, tangling his fingers in the soft strands: "Who knew the first meeting´d be such a success?" he murmured. Draco smiled: "I knew. You are a leader, Harry. You polarise people." "I do?"

Draco nodded, placing a gentle kiss on Harry´s cheek: "Yes, you do. People-" another kiss, this time on the chin, "are," Harry´s neck, "drawn," the hollow of Harry´s neck, "to you." Harry´s chest.

Harry sucked in his breath, mainly because of Draco´s actions rather than his words: his belly fluttered, and Draco´s lips on Harry´s skin had sent pleasant shivers down his spine; he could still feel the tingle.

The blond now looked up at Harry again: "So much, in fact, that they want to pounce on to you." He grinned so boldly that Harry hardly recognized him: "What´s gotten into you, I wonder?" he whispered.

"You have," Draco whispered, his eyes suddenly serious. "Your... gryffindorness."

Harry chuckled: "You´re nuts." "Am not." Are, too!" "Not!" "Are!" "Okay, maybe a little..." "Oh, shut up..."

Harry pulled Draco up to him once more until the blond was lying on top of him, and they lost themselves in a passionate kiss.

Draco felt at home; Harry´s arms, his warmth and his scent were around him, protecting him, loving him. He lost count of time as they explored each other´s mouths with their lips and tongues, gently and tenderly; Harry´s hands were stroking his back and a little lower.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Draco registered that Harry was touching his arse, but to his own surprise he didn´t mind; it belonged to this, and Harry´s touch was tender and a little hesitantly, not brutal and demanding.

When they finally pulled apart a little, both boys recognized what was going on between their bellies, and blushed simultaneously, as both of them were hard. Harry only now realized that his left hand was actually lying on Draco´s bum; he looked at Draco and found that the blond was smiling at him.

"You don´t mind?" Harry asked very quietly.

Draco shook his head slowly: "I´ve never been touched like... like this," he whispered, and Harry understood.

"I´ll never hurt you," he replied equally soft. "I love you so much, Draco."

They kissed again, stroking each other´s body with gentle hands, and soon both of them were gingerly moving their hips, rubbing against each other.

Even through the barriers of their pyjama bottoms it felt heavenly and exciting, and after a while they had long passed the point to stop; their breathing became as erratic as their movements until first Harry, then Draco released with a pleasant shudder.

Panting, their faces together, they waited for their hearts to calm down and their flush to abate. When their gazes met again, both of them were almost timid, yet it had felt so great that they both couldn´t but grin, if a little embarassed at first.

Harry used his wand to clean the both of them up, then put it away and wrapped his arms tightly around Draco: "You´re so precious," he murmured into the blond´s hair as they snuggled up.

Draco tenderly stroked Harry´s shoulder with his thumb: "You, too," he mumbled sleepily. Now that the adrenaline had worn off he felt tired and very content.

He had expected, or rather dreaded this to happen at one point, yet he was surprised by how unpretentious and easy Harry´s and his first... well... sex had been.

If one could call it thus, given that they hadn´t even taken their clothes off. It had however been mind-blowing to do something so intimate together, yet somehow it had been nothing out of the ordinary if in a positive way, because there had been nothing to be ashamed of.

It had just been the next logical step after the snogging, in his opinion, therefore Draco felt only slightly embarassed for even wanting it himself; he had not thought that that would even be possible after the past summer´s events.

Yet he wanted to have all of Harry, share everything he had with him; he had never felt so sure about something in his entire life.

He snuggled deeper into Harry´s embrace and closed his eyes. He finally could go to sleep.

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**To Be Continued**

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	16. I Spy With My Little Eye

_Thanks_ to all of you for your patience; as announced, it is taking a while longer to update right now, but here we go!

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 16: I Spy With My Little Eye**

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Harry was walking away from him. He didn´t speak, he just looked at Draco with disdain before turning around and leaving. Draco was rooted to the spot, even though he attempted to move, desperately trying to follow his love. Panic rose within him, and it became even worse when he felt that he was bleeding, that small rivulets of the warm liquid were running down his thighs.

He knew someone was behind him, yet he still couldn´t move, and he suddenly didn´t want to follow Harry anymore; he was tainted, he wasn´t allowed to.

Sagging, he hugged himself and waited for the inevitable; he could hear voices behind him and knew they´d be there soon, taunting and hurting him, just like before.

"Draco. Draco." It took a while for him to register that the voice which was calling his name sounded worried and fond instead of cruel and malicious.

He opened his eyes and only then realized that he had curled up into a ball and was indeed hugging himself; he had been sobbing dryly for the past few minutes, as he now became aware of, remembering the sounds he had made. Blinking slowly, he looked up at the apprehensive face that was looming above him.

Harry stared at him short-sightedly, not having bothered to find his glasses: "Are you awake now?" he asked in a very low voice.

Draco nodded and began to sat up; his neck felt stiff because he had been lying in a strangely twisted position. "A dream," he murmured but didn´t dare looking at Harry, whose hand rested on Draco´s shoulder: "What´s wrong?" the dark-haired boy whispered, knowing Draco well enough to suspect there was more.

Draco closed his eyes and opened them; he felt shaky and didn´t know how to respond; what _was_ wrong? He had gone to sleep very peacefully, snuggled against Harry... who had left him in the dream, he suddenly remembered. He had left him because Draco was flawed... he shuddered.

Two warm hands gently took hold of his shoulders: "Look at me," Harry said softly.

When Draco reluctantly did so, he was facing the opposite of how Harry had been in the dream: the eyes that were beholding him in the dim light of the new day were warm and full of affection.

Draco, suddenly feeling stupid, almost sighed with relief, yet he knew Harry was still waiting for an answer. "I... I don´t-" he broke off, for he found it difficult to address the issue. "Last night was great," he finally whispered. "But... but, you know... I don´t know if I can ever... have real sex."

His voice had hardly been audible during the last few words, as Draco realised that it was just like that: he was broken, rendered useless to some extent, and yet he had made Harry believe that he could have a normal relationship, including a normal sex life.

He drooped his head: "I´m sorry..." He half expected Harry to get angry or leave, just as he had done in the dream; it was his right to walk out on a lover who didn´t function properly, wasn´t it?

Harry however did no such thing; he never pulled his hands away, but gently squeezed Draco´s shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze once more: "We _did_ have real sex last night," he said matter-of-factly.

Draco swallowed: "I meant... _you know_."

Harry found it hard not to laugh as the blond boy, as pityful as he looked, offered such an adorably cute picture, yet he knew it wasn´t appropriate. "What do you think am I expecting you to do?" he said, feeling slightly embarassed at the thought himself.

The blond wizard seemed to shrink, averting his gaze once more.

"I meant it when I said that I would never hurt you," Harry´s soft voice told him. "I... blimey, this sounds like one of the movies Aunt Petunia was so fond to watch- I treasure you, Draco. I will never ask anything of you that you are not willing to give."

Draco felt a lump in his throat and swallowed hard: "I´m sorry," he whispered, "Please don´t think that I doubted you..." He was shaking now, afraid that he had destroyed the previous night´s spell.

Harry however simply pulled him into his arms, cradling him tenderly: "I know," he soothed while Draco slowly relaxed into the embrace.

"I want this," Draco breathed. "Please believe me..." Harry placed gentle kisses on top of Draco´s head: "I do," he replied. "I thought that´s clear."

Draco gave a shaky laugh.

Harry stroked the blond´s back: "Don´t you think that I´m not afraid at all," he whispered into the fine strands of soft hair. "I´m as much a beginner at this as you are."

He pulled back a little so he could look Draco in the eyes: "Just tell me whenever there´s something you don´t want, okay? I promise I´ll do the same."

Dazedly, Draco nodded. How could Harry be so understanding? He seemed to possess an unearthly patience.

-

Harry of course did possess no such thing, but he felt thoroughly elated these days.

The love he was feeling was like an internal motor no one else could see, and he indeed carried it like a secret. He drew energy out of it and it kept him going, much like the DA, if infinitely better even. He felt giddy and almost stupid, and all the corny platitudes about love he had ever heard suddenly seemed to make so much sense, such as what he had told Draco earlier: he _did_ treasure Draco, even if it sounded strange.

He knew he would try and protect him no matter what, and he would indeed give his life for him if need be. He couldn´t tell anyone about this, of course, as people probably wouldn´t understand and might suspect him to be under the Imperius Curse; apart from that, it really sounded silly if spoken aloud.

Words couldn´t actually do love any justice, he pondered; one might as well try to nail a pudding to a wall.

He hadn´t given the issue of sex between him and Draco much thought so far, though he had known it would become a topic one day, and he had expected it to cause trouble, given the way the blond wizard had suffered.

Yet Harry had refused to worry about it; he had been confident that they would be able to sort it out. If being together with Draco meant having to forego, he´d happily do it; he had been sure he would be content with the way they were handling it now, the snuggling and kissing.

A small if persistent voice in the back of his head had been laughing at his naivety, but he had preferred not to heed it: it was so infinitely more than he had ever had.

Sighing, Harry chewed on his finger instead of paying attention to Professor Sprout that day, who was lecturing them about the proper treatment of Non-Poisonous Fanged Cabbage; obviously, there was more to sex than he had thought, and the previous night had shown that they both wanted it.

It had pleasantly surprised Harry that Draco had initiated the next step; he saw it as a proof of trust, and it also meant a huge development concerning Draco´s recovery. He should have expected what had come afterwards, Harry pondered; it was just like Madam Pomfrey had told him: Draco needed one step at a time.

It wasn´t surprising that the blond had been subconsciously intimidated by his own boldness, and it very likely would happen again. Harry however was determined to show Draco that he meant what he had said, as he had no intention to hurt him; they _would _sort if out, he told himself.

He just had to give Draco time and let him set the pace: love was the answer.

Hell, had he actually just _thought_ that? Definitely corny. Harry shuddered but couldn´t stop himself from grinning sheepishly.

-

It snowed early that year; long before Christmas approached, Hogwarts found itself under a thick, white blanket. The DA kept meeting regularly, a warm fire usually blazing in the fireplace every time they entered the Room of Requirement, and Harry was very content with the progress they all made.

He tried not to let it on that he paid Finn Bailey particular attention, though Cho Chang was sometimes eyeing Harry with a mixture of disappointment and curiosity; the others fortunately were too occupied with their practicing, while the Weasley twins could not be fooled at all.

One night in November Harry was seeing the group out, using the Marauders´ Map, when Fred suddenly laid his arm around the dark-haired wizard´s shoulder; Harry, who had been staring at Finn´s retreating back, jumped.

Grinning, Fred gave a theatrical sigh: "Oh dear, oh dear... here we thought we might one day see you and our little sister in blissful matrimony, yet it seems that we´ve been completely wrong..."

Harry stared at him: "What? Ginny? What are you talking about?"

"You can´t deny that she´s been besotted with you," George now chimed in from Harry´s other side, "we always thought you´d make the perfect match..." "... and now it turns out that we´ve missed one significant factor..." "... which is a pity-"

"WHAT are you two talking about?" Harry now yelled and felt himself blushing, much to his embarassment, thus he settled for a counterstrike: "Ginny is dating Dea-"

"Finn Bailey," the twins intoned together, effectively cutting across the younger wizard.

Harry blushed even more, causing Fred and George to snicker.

"Don´t worry," George then said, a tad more serious, "we won´t tell anyone." "Unless of course we´d have to." "In an emergency situation-" "or out of self-defence, for example." They both laughed.

Harry just snorted: "Self-defence my _arse_," he mumbled and made for the exit, ignoring Fred´s comment about _someone quite acting like having been caught in the act_.

-

Draco looked around the dungeons and had to forcibly subdue a shiver. He still liked Potions Class, yet he found it hard to contend with the place it was being taught in; before the summer, he had never given it much thought, but with everything that had transpired, the damp coldness and the feeling of being enclosed in thick, ancient stone walls was intimidating him to an extent that bothered him, though he tried to hide it.

He and Malcolm had found seats next to Parvati Patil and Hermione Granger, and Draco soon realized that even he, being quite good in Potions, could learn one or two things from her. He also noticed that she wasn´t easily intimidated by Snape; whenever the Professor was being his usual self and taking his foul mood out on the Gryffindors, Hermione did her best to look supremely unconcerned, even though Draco noticed that her jaws were tense every time; she must be gritting her teeth really hard.

It somehow made him feel like cheering her on, and he wondered what had gotten into him.

Her presence and Malcolm on his other side together with the lesson´s contents usually brought Draco through the time in the dungeons. He could neither fool Malcolm, though, nor Hermione; during the very first lesson Liam had attended had she noticed that his hands had been shaking, and that he had pointedly avoided to look at anything but their Professor, the desk in front of him or the others, as though he was trying to block out his surroundings.

Draco did his best to slice up his Sopophorus Beans while pondering about what Harry had said: _don´t you think I´m not afraid at all_. He subconsciously smiled; that was such a sweet, Harry-like thing to say, wasn´t it?

But then again, Harry didn´t know what he was talking about, he had never felt what it was like to have someone using you, breaching you- he took a shuddering breath, all the while pushing down on the bean in front of him too hard; with a merry clicking noise, it bounced away and off the table.

Cursing under his breath, Draco cautiously lowered himself down to pick it up; he slid down the narrow space between the bench and the desk and leaned forward, losing his balance for a moment and supporting himself with both hands.

He instantly froze in shock, and a gasp escaped him. The stone floor felt so horribly familiar underneath his hands; its icy coldness spread through him, paralyzing him and making it hard to breathe. He couldn´t move, his body was too weak, he wanted to die... a soft touch on his shoulder made him flinch violently, and he bumped his head on the table.

"Ow..." he was thankful for the pain, concentrated on it; slowly, abandoning the bean, he emerged from his crouched position, rubbing his head. Pulling back her hand, Hermione Granger was looking at him with an odd expression on her face; he read concern in her eyes and something more indiscernible.

"Are you all right?" she whispered as Draco heaved himself back up onto the seat next to her.

He nodded, warily: "Yes, thanks... just... just dropped a bean and couldn´t find it." "Okay," she looked at him a while longer before giving him a quick smile and turning back to her own beans.

He was distracted by Malcolm, who also wanted to know wether something had happened, and Draco felt himself flushing with embarassment that his moment of weakness had been so obvious. He could still feel the coldness in his palms, and grit his teeth; _do not let it get to you_, he repeated in his mind. _Do not let it get to you_.

He surreptitiously eyed Granger a few times during the rest of the lesson; she was so very perceptive, he had to be more careful around her. Draco remembered how he had used to loathe her because of her superiority in most classes; yet when he looked at her now, he couldn´t find the same animosity in himself anymore.

Harry had talked about her sometimes, and it seemed she was a very loyal friend besides being a know-it-all; apart from that, Draco wasn´t so sure about the whole pureblood-issue anymore. If a pureblood like his father could turn into a monster such as he had demonstrated, what good was it then to be "pure"?

He sighed; how messed up his life had become; he really had to start from scratch.

Snape seemed to think the same, judging from his critically raised eyebrow when he looked at Finn after examining the potion he had just made, sans the wayward Sopophorus Bean, as if wanting to say that he usually did much better.

Finn however crossed his arms and stared at Snape defiantly, and he could have sworn that something like the smallest part of a smile had for a millisecond touched the Professor´s mouth.

Hermione had seen it as well; while she was cleaning her cauldron and clearing away her things, she pursed her lips and glanced at Finn a few times; _interesting_, she thought, and inwardly added that day´s observations to the list which she had already begun in her mind.

-

"... most notably changes in treaty regulations concerned that the trolls forthwith were not chained to the negotiating table anymore; as of that day, severe consequences for the breach- WHO CARES!"

Frustratedly, Ron threw his quill onto the table, rubbing his eyes: "This is easily more boring than watching Dad polishing his Muggle toaster, and he´s even talking to it!"

"It will be part of the OWLs, you better pull yourself together," Hermione said irritably; they were sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room in front of the fire, surrounded by homework; outside, the snow was piling up against the windows.

Harry and Ron were struggling with an essay for History of Magic; Hermione had already finished it and had buried her nose in her book about Ancient Runes.

While Harry had only been staring into the fire dreamily for the past ten minutes, Ron had made the valiant attempt to at least memorize the text, but now he eyed the book wearily: "I just can´t concentrate, Hermione, okay?"

He looked at Harry, who seemed oblivious to the world around him, then scanned the room and spotted Finn, who had just come in through the portrait hole with Malcolm, who was deeply immersed in a discussion with Dean Thomas: "Oi, Finn!"

The sandy-haired boy looked over and blushed a little when he saw Ron with Harry and Hermione. Harry had snapped out of his daydream when he had heard the name, and now his eyes caught Finn´s for a moment; the spell was soon broken however when Harry discovered that his quill was dropping on his robes, and he hastily put it on the table.

Ron beckoned Finn over: "Game of chess?" Finn hesitantly nodded: "I actually have some homework to do first," he said, blushing a bit more. "The History of Magic essay´s due tomorrow..."

Harry could have sworn Hermione had made a small victorious sound behind her book. Ron ignored her and grimaced: "Fine, then... we can as well do it together. Harry and I have just started the darn thing."

Finn dropped into an empty chair and pulled out his textbook, and they set to work again.

Every now and then Hermione discreetly peered over the rim of her book; Finn and Harry pointedly avoided each other´s gaze now, it seemed, yet both of them repeatedly eyed the other when they thought it wouldn´t be noticed.

Frowning slightly, Hermione immersed herself in her textbook again; utterly interesting indeed.

-

Whereas Draco´s nightmares were slowly abating with time, Harry was sleeping increasingly poorly. Quite often he woke up without knowing what had caused it, yet his heart was racing and he was drenched in cold sweat. Sometimes Draco woke from his fidgeting, sometimes he only became alert enough to pull Harry closer and snuggle up with him anew, effectively calming him down simply by his presence.

It was in fact a great comfort for Harry to have someone there with him, someone who felt warm and real and made his nightly terrors look almost ridiculous in retrospect; as they were nearing December, however, he ever so often saw vivid pictures in his dreams again, pictures which looked frighteningly real as well, and they were much harder to chase away afterwards.

He saw himself walking down the corridor again, heading towards a door he knew he had to open, yet he never reached it... his scar prickled and sometimes hurt whenever this happened, and in those nights it usually took a long time until his heart rate slowed down again, since he knew it had something to do with Voldemort... he didn´t want to tell Draco, didn´t want to scare him; but Harry´s dreams at one point became so harrowing that he invariably woke up from them, sometimes too confused to know where he was at first, then he fought Draco´s attempts to soothe him until he realized what was happening.

Draco tried to persuade Harry to go and talk to Dumbledore about it, or tell Sirius; the blond wasn´t stupid, he suspected what those dreams were about. Harry however refused to seek help; Dumbledore had other, more urgent problems at hand, he knew, and Sirius might only do something rash if Harry contacted him.

So they fought Harry´s involuntary battle alone. Draco got used to have a soft cloth ready, which he´d dampen with his wand and use to dab the sweat off Harry´s face after he had come to and was lying with his back against Draco´s chest; both of them were well aware at how reversed their roles suddenly had become.

-

Hermione and Ron noticed that Harry was looking unusually pale, and Hermione asked him pointblank wether his scar was hurting again; Ron hadn´t told her about the incident after the Quidditch training, but she knew Harry well enough to recognize the slightly haunted look in his eyes. He shrugged, knowing that he couldn´t lie to her: "I have nightmares," he said, if very reluctantly.

Ron looked surprised at this; he hadn´t noticed anything. Hermione also tried to make Harry see reason and turn to Dumbledore, yet he remained stubborn: "There is nothing he can do about it anyway," he said, "and I certainly don´t want to bother him when he´s got much more important things on his mind." Hermione looked at Ron for support, who simply regarded Harry with a solemn expression. He knew Harry long enough to recognize a lost battle when he saw one.

And he had also noticed that Harry didn´t quite look him in the eyes; something was going on, something which Harry obviously hadn´t told them.

-

That night, Harry almost reached the door; he knew it was important, yet he failed on the last few meters. He stretched his arm, desperate to lung forward; nearly there, nearly there... he made one last effort and finally touched the handle, but then the door disappeared, and he found himself in a bed once more instead of the lone corridor he had been in only moments before.

He felt sick; he batted Draco´s arms away and hunched over, breathing deeply, to fight off the nausea.

"Harry," Draco whispered. "Wake up..." "Am awake," Harry mumbled weakly, "need...air..." He fought to get out of bed, he needed to breathe.

Draco tried to support his shaky frame, and together they scrambled out of the bed. "It´s okay," Harry whispered with an effort, "you stay here, it´s cold. I´ll be right back..."

"But-"

"Don´t worry," Harry gave him a feeble smile. "I´ll be okay..."

He staggered to his feet and rounded the bedpost.

After two more meters however, he stopped abruptly; next to Harry´s bed, looking somewhat thunderstruck and holding his wand in front of him, stood Ron. Wide-eyed.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

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	17. Bamboozled

_Dear reviewers_, as you´ve noticed, I didn´t find the time to reply individually, that´s why I´d like to thank you all here!

There were some concerns about Ron: I´d just like to say that I love Ron dearly because he´s such a loyal friend overall,

but being thrown into a situation like this is not so easy to handle when you´re young and going through rough times.

o

Oh, and no cliffie this time! =)

Enjoy!

o

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**Chapter 17: Bamboozled  
**

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-

Hermione sat with her arms crossed at the breakfast table in the Great Hall, a stern expression on her face as she looked from Ron to Harry, who couldn´t but wonder what his bushy-haired friend would look like if she wore a tight bun and spectacles, for she uncannily resembled Professor McGonagall.

Neither Ron nor Harry had looked at each other when they had come down from their dorm this morning, and when Hermione had asked them what had happened, they had just shrugged and mumbled something unintelligible.

Hermione sighed: "Would either of you please tell me what´s wrong?" she said impatiently.

Harry immediately blushed and couldn´t keep himself from shooting a brief glance over to Finn Bailey, who seemed utterly determined not to look at anyone. Hermione had caught the brief motion, and from the look on Ron´s face, he had as well.

His expression resembled someone who had been appointed to deliver some tragic news: concerned and a little perplexed. He didn´t seem angry with Harry, rather... not-so-pleasantly surprised.

Hermione snorted when she didn´t get any answers; she knew how stubborn both Harry and Ron could be, as she had witnessed similar situations before, but at least she had known the cause back then.

She was about to get up and leave when Harry leaned forward a bit and spoke, avoiding eye-contact though: "Something happened. I... Finn..." he blushed anew, furiously so. He hadn´t gone back to sleep after the... incident, and was too tired to think; besides, he had already mulled the subject over dozens of times.

Fortunately, Ron hadn´t seen Draco, who had quickly jumped back into bed, but that didn´t make things less complicated.

Harry didn´t think he´d have a problem with admitting that he was in love with another boy; for several reasons he couldn´t tell Ron who that boy really was though, which bothered him greatly.

For one, no one was supposed to know about Finn´s true identity; the less people knew, the safer he was.

Secondly, Ron still thought of Draco as a slimy git, and this was what worried Harry the most: at one point in the future, hopefully, he _would_ be able to tell his best friend about the person he loved, the one who had become such a different character that he was hardly recognizable as the loathsome boy he had once been; yet Ron was supposed to feel betrayed, wasn´t he?

He would probably feel like a fool, someone who was easily deceived and untrostworthy. Hermione was different, Harry was sure of that: she would remain calm, hear Harry out and finally realize that he hadn´t had another choice. Ron however was a different matter, and Harry hated the thought of hurting him. Or losing him.

He took a shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, but Ron forestalled him: "I don´t mind if you´re... you´re... gay," he said very quietly, not noticing how round Hermione´s eyes became and still not looking at Harry either but staring at the table in front of him, "but you could´ve told me. You know I wouldn´t have laughed at you, don´t you?"

Inwardly, Harry groaned: this was exactly what he had been dreading- Ron´s loyalty. He was a really good friend.

"I´m sorry," Harry murmured. "I didn´t mean... I didn´t tell _anyone_, you know?"

Ron just shrugged.

While Harry was still struggling for words, Angelina Johnson came to sit down next to Ron: "Brilliant job at Keeping lately, Weasley," she said briskly, "I think you´re living up to your family´s Quidditch reputation."

Ron´s ears went red; with a murmured "thanks" he got up and strode away.

Angelina looked at Harry with raised eyebrows: "Did I say something wrong?"

-

"What happened?" Hermione asked once more while she and Harry were heading to class, unable to restrain herself, "why does Ron think- I mean, why are you-"

Harry, who knew that this was unavoidable anyway, and who felt he needed at least one ally, slowed down and pulled her aside into an alcove so they couldn´t be overheard: "Ron caught me sneaking out of Finn Bailey´s bed last night," he breathed, feeling himself going red once more.

Hermione just stared at him with an unreadable expression, thus Harry quickly continued:"I think I like boys, okay? I just recently found out and there´s nothing I can do about it."

"Do you love him?" his friend finally asked. Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair: "Yes, I... I do. He´s a good person, and we_mgph_-" Hermione had unexpectedly pulled him into a surprisingly bone-crushing hug.

After she had let go of him, Harry adjusted his glasses and looked at her in bewilderment: "Whatever was that for?"

Hermione looked positively teary now: "For your finding someone you love," she said very quietly. "You deserve it. And I am so very happy for you... And him." she added after a moment´s hesitation.

"But... but-"

"No buts, Harry," she said, definitely sounding a little like McGonagall. Harry inwardly sighed once more; he couldn´t have been happier about Hermione´s reaction, yet she didn´t know just to what she had just given her blessings, did she?

Harry gave a shaky laugh at this: "You don´t even know him," he said feebly, realizing that his knees were feeling like jelly.

Hermione looked as though she was about to retort something, but then remained silent for a moment before she laid her hand on his arm: "That´s true," she said, "but I trust your opinion." Harry could have kissed her; if only things were so easy with Ron as well!

He managed a smile and found that it was mirrored in his friend´s eyes, who was regarding him fondly, and suddenly all the long bottled-up happiness seemed to want out: "He makes me feel whole," Harry heard himself gush, "he´s so tender and caring and... I miss him the minute we´re apart, you have no idea- whenever I wake up from a nightmare he´s there for me, and he makes me feel safe..." He broke off, blushing once more; he didn´t exactly feel embarassed at having bared his soul like this, but Hermione´s unfaltering smile unnerved him a little, even though he read nothing but understanding in her expression.

"Maybe this is what you should tell Ron," she then said. Harry shrugged; he didn´t have the desire to tell Ron anything at the moment. Hermione rolled her eyes: "Can´t you see that he´s jealous?" she said softly.

"I don´t see how telling him this is going to change that," Harry replied.

"It very likely isn´t," Hermione reasoned, "but he´ll see that Finn is not going to replace him either." Harry nodded hesitantly; she was right. As usual.

"Stop looking like it´s your birthday and Christmas together," he grumbled to distract her. Hermione laughed: "But it _is_ Christmas!" she chirped. "Well, almost."

Harry couldn´t help the sinking feeling in his stomach when they finally hurried to class; he had completely forgotten about Christmas. It was only a few days away, and he had not paid it a single thought- where was he going to spend it, and what about Draco? He also realized that he hadn´t bought a single present yet.

Shaking his head, he wished he could go back to bed and hide beneath the covers, not feeling ready to face all these new problems at once.

-

Ron wouldn´t look at Harry all day; he seemed uncomfortable with it himself, yet neither of them made the first step towards reconciliation. Harry had intended to follow Hermione´s advice, but when he saw how Ron seemed to shrink away from him, anger flared inside Harry; it wasn´t him who had started it after all, he didn´t need to run after someone who behaved this irrational, did he?

After dinner, Finn caught up with Harry on their way back to the Gryffindor tower. He simply fell into pace with the dark-haired boy and waited; Hermione tactfully got a move on and joined Ginny and Parvati, who were walking in front of them.

Draco had watched the two friends and had already deduced that they currently weren´t on speaking terms, and from the way Harry´s shoulders hunched, he took it harder than Draco would have guessed. Harry didn´t say anything, but he inched closer to the other boy, appreciating his presence.

They spent the evening doing their homework together, hardly speaking; whereas Hermione joined them, trying her best to hide her approval of their relationship, but unable to stop herself beaming at them a few times, Ron was nowhere to be seen, and both of them were secretly glad about it. When people started to leave the common room in order to go to bed, Harry and Finn also packed away their things and got up; Harry remained silent and broody until they had reached the stairs.

Suddenly however he stopped and turned to look at the other boy: "You know what I´d _really_ like to do right now?" he asked, his eyes blazing. Finn just watched him almost timidly, unsure what was coming next. He certainly hadn´t expected the mischievous grin that now spread on Harry´s face: "I want to go flying."

-

Twenty minutes later found Harry and Finn trudging through the knee-high snow towards the Quidditch Pitch, huddled together underneath Harry´s Invisibility Cloak. "Do you really think this is such a good idea?" Draco asked in a low voice. "If Umbridge catches us-"

"She won´t," Harry said fiercely. "She won´t even be able to see us, considering the snow."

Right, Draco thought, peering up into the night-sky: thick, downy flakes were swirling all around them; the track they were making would soon be invisible again.

"Erm," he tried again, "how are _you_ going to see anything while in the air?" Draco couldn´t help asking, trying to sound casual.

Harry laughed, and there was something rebellious in his voice: "With a modified water-repelling charm," he said lightly. "Courtesy of Hermione."

"Oh. Well, then..." Draco looked at the Firebolt which Harry was carrying, and glanced up at the sky again; he´d see wether the broom was as good as people said, wouldn´t he? "Why did Gr- Hermione behave like that anyway?" he suddenly asked. "She was all but glowing."

"I told her about you- I mean, _Finn_ and me," Harry admitted.

Draco looked at him questioningly: "Do elaborate?" "She´s one of my best friends," the dark-haired wizard said, sounding a little defiantly, "and she understands, okay? She won´t tell anyone."

"Okay," Draco sought to appease him, "let´s hope Weasley will follow her example, then."

Harry sighed and nodded, averting his eyes: "Yes," he murmured quietly. "Let´s."

When they had finally reached the Pitch and shed the Cloak, both Harry and Draco subconsciously looked upwards and around. "Some history we´ve got in this place," Harry said, grinning. Draco nodded solemnly, his eyes still on the hoops of the far end. Harry now pointed his wand first at his own face, then at Draco´s, and muttered the repelling charm, then he mounted the Firebolt and looked at Draco expectantly: "Come on," he said, "get on behind me."

Draco hesitated only for a second. He had missed Quidditch as well, and the prospect of flying, flying on one broom with his lover at that, send a pleasant shiver of anticipation down his spine. He quickly mounted the broom behind Harry and wrapped his arms around the other´s midriff. "Ready?"

A moment later, Harry kicked off hard from the ground, stirring up clouds of snow, and then they were in the air.

The repelling charm held true to its purpose: the snow drifted apart in front of them, and even though he could hardly make out the goal hoops or the rest of the stadium, Harry urged his broom into a fast pace; the wind howled around their ears and the cold air burned in their lungs, yet they cheered with glee, drunken from the adrenaline as Harry went into a few steep dives before he circled the Pitch in a wide curve.

Despite the additional weight, the Firebolt was easily steerable, and Harry laughed with wild joy. Draco had long stopped trying to figure out how Harry could see where to go; he simply held on to him, enjoying the knowledge that it was Harry´s familiar body underneath the many layers of clothes, and trusted his boyfriend not to crash into anything.

When they finally landed, both their noses seemed frozen, and their hands were chilled despite their mittens. They hardly cared, though, for they were both too happy. Draco looked sideways at Harry, marvelling at the other´s gift to make the best out of things.

Harry, after swinging in his broom´s stirrups, turned towards Draco and looked at him, affection spreading on his face: "There you are," he whispered. Only now did Draco realize that the Polyjuice had meanwhile worn off; he hadn´t noticed.

"I like how you look when you´ve got a red nose and snow in your hair," Harry said huskily, cupping the blond´s cheek. Draco blushed, leaning into the touch for a moment: "You´re just sentimental, Potter" he murmured sheepishly, but the warm feeling in his stomach that had made itself known at Harry´s words told him how much he appreciated them.

-

By the time they had reached the castle and snuck in they were both shivering from the cold. Harry took out the Marauder´s Map and guided them towards the higher levels; at one point however, he stopped, thinking, and suddenly grinned: "I think I´ve got an idea," he said. "I know the perfect place to get warm again."

Draco looked around in wonderment once they had entered the Prefect´s bathroom on the fourth floor.

"How do you know about this place?" he asked, his eyes lingering on the picture of the mermaid. Harry shrugged, not particularly keen to talk about Cedric Diggory right now: "I used to come here to try and solve the Golden Egg´s riddle. You know, for... the second task of the tournament."

Draco understood and didn´t ask further. Harry, who had opened the taps, now began to strip out of his wet and cold clothes, carefully laying them out on the warm stones underneath their feet, and Draco, after being momentarily distracted by the sight of Harry´s naked chest, followed his example, if a little hesitantly.

Despite the fact that Harry had seen him naked before and they were sleeping in one bed, he was still very self-conscious about his body, scarred as it was; it wasn´t until Harry, sensing Draco´s insecurity, stepped towards him stark naked, and snaked his arms around him, pulling him close until their bodies were pressing against each other: "I love you," he murmured, pecking along Draco´s collarbone before nudging his cold nose against Draco´s, who pleasantly shuddered from the sensation of having Harry so close. They kissed, very tenderly, then Harry motioned towards the basin: "Let´s get in, shall we?"

The warm water burned when it touched their frozen limbs, but after the first almost painful moments, it felt simply wonderful. The boys stretched and splashed about, chasing each other and trying to push each other underwater, until they finally grew tired and simply lay in the pleasant water, cuddling against each other.

Draco sighed contentedly as Harry pulled him nearer so that he was resting against the dark-haired wizard´s chest, and could have purred when said wizard began running his free hand in circles over the blond´s chest.

"We´re lucky," Harry said lightly, "that we haven´t got company." "What?" Draco was momentarily startled out of his bliss, "I thought you locked the door?"

"I meant Moaning Myrtle," Harry chuckled, his hand slowly wandering lower. "She´s quite a voyeur, mind you." "Aah," Draco relaxed against him once more and closed his eyes."Did she check you out?"

"Definitely," Harry replied, gently rubbing Draco´s belly now, "at least she tried."

Draco chuckled, but didn´t delve into the subject any further; Harry´s hand was doing wonderful things to him, and he wanted to concentrate on that instead of a ghost.

Harry gingerly nibbled at Draco´s ear before placing tender kisses on his neck and further down, continuously pecking at the soft skin while his hand was wandering lower until it had found Draco´s member. He could feel the blond tense a little and continued to kiss him; at the same time he never stopped stroking the soft flesh, which felt even more velvety underwater, until Draco relaxed once more, arching against Harry with a soft mewl.

"Are you okay, baby?" Harry whispered into his ear.

Draco could feel Harry´s own erection against his back, but he felt so loved and safe that he didn´t mind. "Yes," he replied, "don´t stop, please..."

He completely surrendered to his lover´s gentle ministrations; Merlin, it felt so good. Harry´s hand was gently massaging alternately his length and his balls, deliciously applying pressure and removing it again, leaving Draco with a crave for more, which immediately followed every time.

It wasn´t long until he could feel himself seize up and come into Harry´s hand, panting and almost sobbing from the pleasure; the thought was strangely attractive, and he didn´t feel a tad embarassed about it. He smiled when he felt Harry coming as well: butterfly movements and a gush of warmth against his back.

The other boy never let go of him, but tenderly teased his aftershocks out of him; he was occasionally shaking a little himself, riding out the remainders of his own climax, all the while holding Draco safe against his chest with his free arm.

-

It was very late when they finally returned to Gryffindor tower. To their suprise, Malcolm was waiting for them in the common room when they scrambled in through the portrait hole, looking miffed: "It´s nearly two in the morning, and I had no idea where you were. If you pull a stunt like this ever again, I´ll have to talk to Dumbledore about it," was all he said before turning his back on them and heading towards the stairs.

Harry and Draco, even though the latter remained under the Invisibility Cloak in order to hide from the portraits, exchanged a guilty look: that evening had indeed been too good to be true so far, hadn´t it? At least it hadn´t been Umbridge who had caught them, Harry tried to tell himself, though it didn´t make things better: he had put them both into danger, and he suddenly was very aware of that.

Draco took his hand: "I´ll talk to him tomorrow," he whispered. "Don´t worry. I don´t regret sneaking out and about with you."

Both boys were taking a long time to fall asleep nevertheless, partly due to the prospect of facing Ron and Malcolm, partly due to the fact that they were surrounded by the lingering scent of the bubble bath and kept replaying the pleasant memories this entailed in their minds.

Harry´s breathing eventually began to even out, and Draco gently reinforced his grip around the other boy: "I love you, too," he murmured, and closed his eyes.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	18. Oddment

_Hi all_, I know I know I know, it´s been ages- here´s the newest chapter, finally,

and I´m sorry for the long wait!

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 18: Oddment  
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**-o-O-o-**

-

"Harry, calm down!" Sirius folded his arms over his chest and looked at his godson worriedly.

Harry buried his face in his hands, feeling so utterly helpless: "It wasn´t just a dream," he repeated. "I was the snake, Sirius, I bit him! I could feel the blood..." He broke off, confused and disgusted by himself.

He was sitting on his bed in Grimmauld Place; the musty smell of the room just added to how miserable Harry felt right then, and he could feel himself shaking.

His hands were cold, he registered in a far corner of his mind, while he wondered what was going to happen to him. He had had a vision which had been significantly different from the ones he had had before- he had been in the corridor again, only this time he had been a snake- only this time he had bitten Arthur Weasley, who had stood guard over something in said corridor, which had resulted in nearly killing him.

Harry didn´t see Sirius kneeling down in front of him, thus he flinched when he felt his godfather´s warm hands on his shoulders: "Harry," Sirius said softly. "We´ve been over this already, haven´t we? There´s no way that Voldemort could have possessed you, or that you actually are responsible for the attack on Arthur."

Harry began to shake now; he still hadn´t come to a grip with the night´s horrible events. His scar had hurt terribly, worse than ever before, when he had woken up, the taste of blood still on his tongue, causing him to vomit; he had barely managed to roll over so as not to soil the bed.

Draco had not hesitated to scramble out of bed and wake Malcolm, who had been alert in an instant; the other boys had not noticed anything, thanks to the Silencing Charm, and in retrospect Harry was grateful for that.

After Malcolm had taken Harry to McGonagall and further to Dumbledore, things had happened very fast; Harry and the Weasley children had been taken to Grimmauld Place while the old Headmaster was doing his best to sort things out.

Harry had tried to avoid any eye-contact while waiting in silence for any news; he could sense the others´ looks on himself, especially Ron´s, but he wasn´t up to deal with that right then.

He had heard Sirius arguing with the twins, who wanted to go to St Mungo´s straight away after they had been informed that Arthur had been found in time and was alive; later on, Molly had sent a note from the hospital, telling them that all would be well and that the family would be allowed to visit later on.

-

Harry only felt marginally relieved; he tried to convince himself that he couldn´t possibly have taken on the form of a snake, of _the_ snake, for he was painfully aware whose snake it had been; yet it had felt so real, he had even tasted the blood, the remainder of its scent still lingering in his nostrils. And there was more...

"I think I´m going mad," Harry whispered now, finally looking up into Sirius´ sympathetic face. "Back in Dumbledore´s office, just before we took the Portkey... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was the snake, I _felt_ like one- my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore- Sirius, I wanted to attack him!"

Sirius looked at him for a few seconds: "I wish I could take this burden off you," he said unexpectedly, his voice hoarse, before slowly and gently pulling Harry into his arms.

Harry closed his eyes and held on to Sirius as though he was holding on to dear life; tears which had threatened to come out ever since the dream spilled over now, and he wept. He had never had a parental figure to help him take on whatever problems he was facing, someone who had been there simply to provide a shoulder to cry on; he couldn´t believe how good it felt.

If he pretended not to notice how thin and emaciated Sirius´ body was, he could try and make himself believe that it was James who was holding him, his father. He knew he was doing his godfather injustice, yet he couldn´t stop himself.

It was only when Harry eventually calmed down that Sirius pulled back a little: "You should try and get some sleep," he said. "You look terrible, if I may say so."

Harry laughed chokedly through the reminders of his tears, but he didn´t want to lie down: "What if I... if the snake-"

Sirius cut him off by beginning to pull Harry´s shoes off his feet: "You won´t," he said as calmly as he could. He felt awfully sorry for Harry, and he could see that the teen was afraid of more visions like that. "I´ll stay with you until you´re asleep, okay?"

His godson nodded meekly before scrambling under the covers Sirius was holding up for him. The older wizard carefully tucked him in and sat down on the edge of the bed afterwards. Harry felt oddly at home, something he had rarely experienced in his life; he wanted to savour this moment, this little reprieve from everything that was going on.

Sirius smiled at him and laid one hand on Harry´s chest: "You have a heart, Harry," he said very softly. "In here is what counts and what will forever make you very different from Voldemort."

Harry closed his eyes: if Sirius knew just who was residing in that heart, he thought, who Harry longed to be with in every waking minute and especially now that he felt vulnerable and lost. He missed Draco terribly and hoped he was all right. When Sirius made to pull his hand away, Harry made a split-second decision and quickly gripped it, holding on to it: "I need to tell you something," he said, barely audible. "Can you come closer?"

If he was surprised, Sirius didn´t let it on; instead, he stretched out on the bed next to Harry so that their heads were on the same level and waited for his godson to continue.

Harry turned to look at him: "I am in love," he whispered. Sirius´ face lit up a little, which was exactly what Harry was dreading.

There was no way out now, however, thus he hurried to continue before his courage would leave him: "It´s a guy," he whispered, "and I have never felt like this before. He is making me happy, really happy, and I love him so much I sometimes find it hard not to burst into singing."

He took a deep breath when he saw that a kind smile had spread on Sirius´ face; he didn´t seem to mind that Harry was gay. Misinterpreting the relief on his godson´s face, he chuckled quietly: "I don´t care wether it´s a girl or a boy, Harry," he stated. "As long as you´re happy."

Harry swallowed: "Thanks... but that´s not what I wanted to talk to you about."

-

Draco Malfoy. Sirius stared at Harry, who had finally succumbed to sleep. His godfather had stayed with him, as promised, and had pondered their talk, replaying it over and over in his head: his Harry was in love with Draco Malfoy. The son of Lucius Malfoy, one of Voldemort´s most devoted followers, a man who was cruel enough to betray his own kin, a man who didn´t even stop from torturing said son.

Sirius subdued a sigh; Harry had been upset and confused enough, thus he hadn´t said anything. He was glad about that now, because it probably had prevented him from saying something he´d later regret. He gingerly reached out and stroked Harry´s unruly hair: he couldn´t bear the thought of someone hurting him, and that included his own self.

Having made up his mind, he cautiously got off the bed and went downstairs to floo Remus Lupin. He needed a second opinion on this.

The house was quiet; most of the Weasley children had retreated to the various vacant bedrooms to catch up on a little sleep before visiting their father. Only Ron was still sitting in the kitchen, his head drooping; he hadn´t wanted to interrupt Harry and Sirius, whom he had heard talking through the door, thus he had returned downstairs and settled in an armchair by the fireplace.

He looked up when Sirius came in, a little startled at first; Sirius gave him a feeble smile: "Harry´s asleep," he said. "You look like you could do with a nap as well." Ron nodded tiredly: "Is he all right?" he asked, slowly getting up.

"He will be," Sirius replied, rubbing his hand over his eyes. Ron nodded once more and left. Sirius looked after him, suddenly glad that Harry had such a loyal friend.

-

Lupin gave a low chuckle: "I should have known," he said good-naturedly. When Sirius raised one eyebrow questioningly, his friend began telling him about Harry´s birthday and how differently Draco had seemed then, how he had even apologized for his former behaviour.

"He has been through a terrible ordeal, Siri," Lupin finally said. "And he has had time to think."

Sirius remained silent for a long time before he voiced his main concern: "What if all this is a set-up?"

Lupin shook his head: "I suspected the same until Dumbledore told me that Draco had allowed him to watch the memories of his imprisonment in the Pensieve. Albus has of course subjected them to all kinds of authenticity-charms, and he is positive that they haven´t been modified in any way."

He looked at Sirius: "Draco is in fact very lucky to have survived what those sick bastards did to him," he said very quietly. "And I believe he´s been sincere about his apology."

"Maybe," Sirius admitted reluctantly. "And I can´t say I´m not sorry for him. Dumbledore still shouldn´t have hidden him with Harry, though. He´s got enough on his plate already."

Lupin shook his head: "You know as well as I do that Dumbledore´s got his reasons," he admonished his old friend. "And I think you´re underestimating Harry as well as you´re underestimating Draco."

Sirius smiled at him sheepishly: "You´re saying I should trust Harry´s opinion."

"I believe they´ve been good for each other, and yes, I am saying exactly that."

"So... Harry´s gay."

"It seems that he is."

"It won´t make his life easier."

"I know."

"He´s gay and in love with Draco Malfoy. _Adores_ him."

"Exactly."

"I don´t mind the first part, and I´ll probably get used to the last part, won´t I?"

"I trust you will."

"Thanks. And you can stop trying to hide that grin now."

"Thank Merlin, I thought I´d get a muscle spasm in my face."

"Muscle spasm _my arse_."

Lupin chuckled once more: "Come on," he said lightly, "let´s have a look if there´s some Firewhiskey in the pantry."

"Good thinking. Merlin, Draco Malfoy... Harry talked about him as though he were an angel."

"In Harry´s eyes, he obviously is."

"Hm. You should have _seen_ his eyes- shining like mad while he was telling me how special and caring this angel is. One moment he was all distraught, the other he´s talking like there´s no tomorrow."

"Here´s to angels."

"Here´s to love."

They had just emptied their glasses when Molly Weasley arrived, looking haggard and pale, but unmistakably relieved. She sank onto the nearest chair: "He´ll be fine," he breathed quietly and motioned towards the whiskey bottle. "I could do with one of those now, if you don´t mind."

Lupin hurriedly summoned a glass for her, pointedly avoiding Sirius´gaze while both of them were thinking the same: they had temporarily but completely forgotten about Arthur.

To make up for it, Remus and Sirius cooked a late breakfast for Molly; she didn´t want to wake her children or Harry and they´d have to wait until the afternoon before they would be able to go to St Mungo´s anyway.

They were discussing Harry´s vision when there were hurried steps on the stairs, and a moment later the door burst open to reveal Ron, who looked tousled and distressed: "Harry´s dreaming again, I can´t wake him up," he said. Sirius was already out of the door before Ron realized his mother was there. Wordlessly, she got to her feet and pulled her son into a fierce hug: "I wish we´d live in less troubled times," she said chokedly, stroking Ron´s back as though he was the only one who needed this comfort.

-

Sirius caught a trashing Harry in his arms: the boy was sweating and sobbing, and his face was scrunched up as though in pain. Sirius held him until all attempts to free himself abated, and until Harry stopped shaking; he cradled him close, talking to Harry as calmly as he could. It wasn´t easy, though, as all this greatly upset Sirius.

"Wake up, Harry," he urged when Harry was calm enough to register the voice that was floating around him. "It was only a dream..."

Harry looked at him bleary-eyed when he eventually awoke: "Sirius..." he murmured, exhaustion evident in his voice. "I was dreaming again..."

"I´m so sorry, Harry," Sirius whispered. "Are you okay?"

"I dreamed of _him_... he killed Cedric..."

Harry was beginning to shake anew. It took a long time for him to calm down, but in the end he did.

Sirius made him sit up: "You´re soaked," he said. "Let´s get you into something dry."

Harry was too dazed to mind or even feel embarassed about having someone tending to him like a child, and he was glad about the fresh shirt Sirius helped him into.

"Tell you what," Sirius then said, "I have a surprise for you. I actually wanted to wait until the day after tomorrow, as it´s not Christmas yet, but I think the time is actually perfect right now. Come on."

Harry eyed him warily, but scrambled to his feet nevertheless; wrapped in his night-gown, he followed Sirius downstairs. They passed Sirius´ room and stopped in front of the one next to it, the one which had once belonged to Regulus Black, Sirius´ brother.

"I thought you would like your own room, and not the one you stayed in during the summer," Sirius explained. "Since you´re one day going to live here anyway, I mean."

At these words, the heaviness in Harry´s heart lifted considerably. Even more so when Sirius opened the door and showed him in: the room had recently been painted and redecorated; the large four-poster bed was covered with a deeply red plaid and had hangings of the same colour.

One door lead to an adjoining bathroom. There were a shelf for books and a perch for an Owl as well as a desk and wardrobe, all made of light-coloured wood and looking new. In one corner there was a stuffed chair with a reading lamp and a small table next to it, and the window sill was a large, cushioned seat.

The sun shone in and illuminated the framed picture on the wall: Harry´s parents, smiling and waving into the camera.

The whole room looked like someone had put a lot of time and effort into it.

Harry wordlessly turned around and slung his arms around Sirius, who anxiously asked his godson wether this was okay.

"It´s perfect," Harry murmured into his chest, "thank you so much." A warm smile spread on Sirius´ worn face: "Happy Christmas, Harry" he murmured.

For a long time, Harry very tightly held on to the man who was trying so hard to substitute for his father, then he let go and climbed onto the bed: "Can I stay here?" he asked. Sirius nodded: "Of course. I´ll have Kreacher bring the rest of your things. Do you think you´ll be okay now?"

Harry nodded as well, but he didn´t intend to lie down again; once Sirius had left the room, he sat down on the window seat and stared out into the sunny December day, trying not to think of the nightmare, but concentrating on Draco instead, wondering whatever he was doing right then.

They hadn´t had time to say goodbye, and he didn´t even know where his boyfriend was going to spend Christmas. He jumped to his feet, intent on finding out, but than sank back down onto the bed; he wasn´t ready to face the Weasleys, he could tell that they were still wondering how he had known about their father, and he couldn´t bear the idea of being looked at with mistrust right now.

He was sure they were talking about him. Another, very dreadful thought which had so far lingered in the back of mind assaulted Harry now: what if it wasn´t safe for Draco to be with Harry anymore? What if he really was possessed, he could easily hurt his boyfriend like he had hurt Mr Weasley! Or worse- if Voldemort was possessing him, was he also able to look into Harry´s mind?

He got to his feet and punched his fist into the wall at this: it wasn´t fair. It simply wasn´t fair.

-

Hermione had known that something was wrong when neither Harry nor Ron had come down from the boys´ dormitory two days before Christmas Eve; she hadn´t needed to see Finn´s exceptionally pale face to confirm that either, but she hadn´t been prepared for the story Dumbledore finally told her after she had been called to his office.

"B-but they´re okay, aren´t they?" she finally asked with a shaking voice, and Dumbledore smiled at the girl´s compassion: "They will be," he said. "I´ve just had a message from Molly, it looks as though Arthur has been lucky to have been found in time. And Harry... he´s strong."

Hermione involuntarily smiled: "He is," she agreed. Dumbledore nodded, a little sadly.

"He is going to stay with Snuffles over Christmas," he then said. "I am sure he´ll like that."

Hermione had her doubts about that, considering the dark old house in Grimmauld Place and Sirius´ moodswings, but on the other hand she knew how important Sirius was to Harry, and this might be the chance for some further bonding between the two.

To lighten the mood a little, Dumbledore asked Hermione about her own plans for the Christmas break.

"I´m going skiing with my parents," she said, glad to be able to change the topic. Dumbledore leaned forward: "Skiing? How splendid," he said eagerly. "I have to admit that I´d like to try it one day, even though I can already hear Professor McGonagall listing me at least fifty reasons why I shouldn´t. I trust that you can enlighten me as to what those two sticks are used for? I´ve been told they´re used to push other Muggles out of the way, but surely that´s not true?"

When Hermione left the headmaster´s office five minutes later, she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to notice Finn and Liam Bailey, who were approaching the stone gargoyle from the opposite direction.

Draco couldn´t shake off the images of the night; he had done so ever since Harry had been marched off in the night, and had tried not to think about the vision Harry had had. It must have been horrible, judging from the state Harry had been in, and Draco was wondering what had happened afterwards. His questions were answered by the headmaster, who was eyeing Finn sympathetically: "I gather you have been quite distressed," he said kindly. "Let me reassure you that Harry is relatively well, he hasn´t suffered any bodily harm."

"Mr Weasley?" Finn asked tonelessly.

"Has been found in time," Dumbledore replied. "He´s in St Mungo´s."

Draco exhaled as though he had held his breath for a long time, while the headmaster continued: "I have thoroughly considered whichever are the best options concerning your safety during the Christmas break; I´d rather not have you stay at Hogwarts while there are so few people here, thus I have decided to debate the matter with the other members of the Order of the Phoenix. We´ll meet this afternoon, thus I´ll be able to inform you tonight."

-

Harry stayed in his new room all day, effectively hiding from anyone else. He heard the Weasleys leave for St Mungo´s and later return, chatting animatedly, but still didn´t come out, even though he would have loved to know how Mr Weasley was doing.

In the evening someone knocked on Harry´s door: "Harry? It´s me, Ginny! Open up!" Harry considered pretending not to be there, but in the end got up and unlocked the door, only to face a very stern-looking red-head, who greatly resembled Hermione in the way she had crossed her arms: "You can´t hide in there forever. We need to talk!"

"I´m tired."

"Of what?" Ginny simply stepped in. "You´ve been doing nothing but hiding!"

"So?" Harry grew angry. "I didn´t want any company, especially not now! I know you´re all talking about me, and it´s not very hard to guess what you´re all thinking: Harry´s weird, and if he´s seeing things through the eyes of Voldemort´s snake, he can´t but be possessed!"

Ginny shook her head and sighed: "Look, I can understand-"

"No, you can´t," Harry snapped. "You have _no_ idea!"

"Oh really? If you stopped pitying yourself for a minute, you might remember that I of all people should know exactly how you feel, since it´s been me who´s actually been possessed by You-Know-Who! And who can possibly tell you wether you are or not!"

Harry gaped at her. "Yes, well... " was all he could say for a while, feeling unbelievably stupid. Had he been so preoccupied with himself lately that he had stopped thinking logically?

"I´m sorry," he finally added sheepishly.

Ginny only snorted through her nose.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**

**Author´s note: **

The line:

"I think I´m going mad. Back in Dumbledore´s office, just before we took the Portkey... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was the snake, I _felt_ like one- my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore- Sirius, I wanted to attack him!"

is quoted from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ by J.K. Rowling, of the 2003 Bloomsbury Edition.


	19. So This Is Where We Are

Thanks to all who´ve read and reviewed! 301 people on story alert, so here´s a treat in the shape of an early update! Cheers guys!

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**Chapter 19: So This Is Where We Are  
**

**-o-O-o-**

o

It had to be the longest day ever.

After classes, Seamus, Dean, Neville, Finn and Liam had returned to their dormitory and had packed up their trunks. Draco noticed that Harry´s and Ron´s trunks were gone already, and he felt strangely alone. The other boys were speculating about their mates´ absence, not knowing what had happened, and talked about their plans for the upcoming break, but whereas Liam participated in their conversation, Finn remained silent.

He didn´t know when he´d see Harry again, and he missed him so much that he would have thrown himself onto his bed and buried his head in Harry´s scent if he only had been alone in the room.

After dinner, the twins were finally called to the Headmaster´s office once more. Dumbledore smiled benignly: "We have found a solution," he announced. "You will spend the break at the Order´s Headquarters."

Malcolm looked surprised: "Really, sir? What about the portraits? And Kreacher?" He well remembered the various reasons why everyone had opted against bringing Draco to Grimmauld Place in summer, all apart from Draco´s questionable liability.

"I have used a very handy little charm on the portraits, they will not blabber anything out," the Headmaster said almost cheerfully. "And Kreacher has been ordered to work at Hogwarts during the whole time. He doesn´t know why, he assumes that his master intends to punish him."

Malcolm looked relieved: "Well, then..."

Draco didn´t know who Kreacher was, but he seemed to be a house-elf.

Dumbledore now turned to him: "Some of the other Order-members were reluctant to agree at first," he said, suddenly serious. "They deemed your presence a risk, so I spoke on your behalf. They have finally consented, but only under one condition."

Draco´s heart sank; he should have expected this. He didn´t want to be anywhere where he wasn´t welcome, yet he knew he could trust Dumbledore, and that he didn´t really have a choice.

There was nowhere else to go, after all, was there?

The old wizard seemed to sense his distress: "Do not worry," he said calmly. "It is a mere safety measure. You are to undergo a questioning under Veritaserum when you arrive there. It is painless and you have nothing to fear, my dear boy."

Draco nodded, swallowing hard; he would have to get used to things like that, he told himself. He was a Malfoy, after all- inconvenience apparently came with the name.

"Mr McIver will accompany you," Dumbledore continued, "as he is a member of the Order, it´s perfectly inconspicuous if he stays at the Headquarters for a bit before going home for Christmas."

"Will you be there as well?" Draco asked, his voice embarassingly small as he looked at the old headmaster.

"I can´t- our _High Inquisitor_ is already on my heels because of my prior absence," Dumbledore said, sounding almost amused. His eyes belied his tone however, and it was evident that he wasn´t happy about this either.

-

Draco arrived in Grimmauld Place with his eyes bound. It had been part of the condition that he wasn´t allowed to see his whereabouts before the interrogation.

Malcolm caught his arm and steadied him when they stumbled out of the floo later that evening. From the scents around him, Draco assumed that they were in a kitchen; it smelled of Roastbeef, wood, apples and cinnamon among other things.

He was distracted from this stock-taking when someone else approached them, and a female voice adressed them: "Wotcher, Malcolm. Mr Malfoy; sit down, please. We´ll start in a minute, just waiting for Kingsley. You can take the Anti-Potion in the meantime."

The effects of the Polyjuice Potion were going to be erased for the occasion, and Draco was secretly glad about that; if he had to face a whole group of Aurors, he´d rather do it as his normal self.

"He´s right outside," another voice growled. Draco flinched- it had sounded like Mad-Eye Moody, the very wizard who had turned Draco into a ferret once.

"Remember me, I gather?" the Auror growled now, followed by a barking laughter.

Draco was glad when everyone was finally assembled and ready to start. He hated being in a room with strangers and not even being able to see them. He sensed that there were more, but he didn´t want to ask. He already was in a weak enough position anyway.

Draco was right; Molly, Remus and Sirius were there as well. They didn´t want to make themselves known however; Molly because she wanted to witness this instead of her husband, Sirius because he simply couldn´t make up his mind about Draco, and Remus because he didn´t want anyone to think he was biased.

As soon as Draco had swallowed the Veritaserum, his mind sank into some kind of stupor. He couldn´t focus on anything but the questions which were being asked right now, and he knew there was only one way to answer them.

Yes, I am Draco Malfoy, son of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.

Yes, I have been using Polyjuice Potion during the past few months because I am hiding from the Death Eaters.

No, I don´t want to become one himself.

They are cruel and do disgusting things to others.

Yes, they have tortured and nearly killed me.

Yes, my father participated in that.

They have tortured me because I didn´t want to betray Harry Potter.

I didn´t want to betray Harry Potter because he is a good person.

Yes, we have been enemies in school.

My father taught me to despise people like him.

I have eyes and ears.

I don´t want to become what my father wants me to.

I want to make up for what my family did.

I hate Voldemort and want to help destroying him.

-

During the silence that followed, someone gently removed the blindfold. Draco blinked; the kitchen was brightly lit, and he could make out several people around him. He didn´t know any of them except Remus Lupin, who kindly smiled at him, and Malcolm.

Someone handed Draco a glass now: "Drink this," they said, "it will help."

It was like raising a curtain, as though things seemed to take on sharper edges, and people suddenly had more distinct features. One man with a thin face and long dark hair looked at him intently, and Draco recognized him as Sirius Black, Harry´s godfather.

Remus Lupin was quietly talking to a young woman with shocking pink hair, and Ron Weasley´s mother had been standing in a far corner, a tea towel in her hands. She now busied herself with a kettle and was the first to break the awkward silence: "Would you care for a cup of tea, dear? You look frozen," she said and gave Draco a warm smile. He blushed furiously; he remembered the many times he had badmouthed her in front of Ron, just to pick a fight, and felt deeply ashamed. He really felt cold, though, as he only now realized, and nodded gratefully.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," he said softly, as Molly handed him and Malcolm a mug.

Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded towards Draco: "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Malfoy," he said; the woman with the pink hair and he left a short while later.

"Are you okay?" Malcolm asked Draco in an undertone. He was about to answer when Malcolm suddenly frowned over Draco´s shoulder; he turned to find that Sirius Black had sat down on the blond´s other side.

"I´d like a word with Mr Malfoy," Sirius said politely, and Malcolm, after looking quizzically at Draco and receiving a nod, stood up and left.

Sirius Black´s face was thin and gaunt; he had unmistakably been very handsome once, and still was if one didn´t count how worn his features looked. His eyes were of a dark grey and seemed to pierce Draco´s very soul, yet he didn´t shrink away under the attentive look; he remembered how reverently Harry had spoken of his godfather, and he trusted his boyfriend´s opinion.

"I just want to make a few things clear," Black now said. "First of all I´d like to welcome you to my house." He noticed the surprise in Draco´s eyes: "Yes, this is the house of Black. You might have heard about it, since we´re distant cousins or so. I have to admit that I was reluctant to allow the Order to bring you here at first, but I have had second thoughts- not only because I have been profiting of second chances as well, but also because I know how very highly Harry has come to value you."

At this, Draco´s eyes went very wide.

Sirius couldn´t stop himself from smiling: "He´s bloody besotted with you," he said in an undertone. "And that´s why I´m going to get him now, I´m sure he´ll be delighted to see you." He got up but stopped once more: "Oh, and I´ll of course have your head in case you ever hurt him. Just thought it´s fair to let you know."

Dazedly, Draco stared after him. Harry was here! His gaze fell on Remus Lupin, who had been looking at Black´s retreating back as well, a warm smile on his face; he nodded at Draco just as Shacklebolt had done, then raised his own cup of tea in a silent salute. Draco gave him a shy smile.

A moment later, the door to the kitchen opened again, and Sirius came in, followed by his godson.

Harry looked at the various people in confusion before his eyes fell on Draco. His expression immediately changed. His gaze softened, and a smile spread on his face as he closed the distance between them.

Draco didn´t realize that he had gotten up.

All he could think of was how happy Harry looked, and a moment later, the dark-haired boy had pulled him into his arms and held him tightly.

Draco closed his eyes and wrapped his own arms around Harry, grateful to be back with him, and felt his own happiness welling up in him as he inhaled his boyfriend´s familiar scent.

-

Neither of them registered how quiet it suddenly had become, how everyone was entranced and, for Molly´s part, surprised by this display of affection between the two former enemies. She had expected them to act civil around each other, but not this.

When they finally let go, Harry smiled at Draco, who returned this gesture, before turning to his godfather: "Thanks," he said quietly, and Sirius nodded, the smallest of smiles playing around the corners of his mouth.

Remus averted his gaze and hid his own smile; he thought it quite generous of Sirius, as he would have to share his time with Harry now. Putting Harry´s welfare in front of his own was very like him, though, and Remus once more was glad that Azkaban hadn´t destroyed everything his friend had once been, most of all his humanity.

Harry then turned back to Draco: "Are you okay?"

Sirius had told him about the interrogation to avoid a possible scene, and rightly so: Harry was furious about it.

His godfather had done his best to calm him down, however: "Draco is embarassed enough as it is, he doesn´t need you to make a scene," he had said quietly, and Harry had had to admit that he was right.

They all sat down at the large table together. Sirius already had invited the Weasleys to spend Christmas at Grimmauld Place, given its proximity to St. Mungo´s, and looked happy that he didn´t have to be alone. The gloomy old house and the memories it contained were depressing him more than he let on, but now he had a few days of good company to look forward to.

After they had discussed what to have for dinner on the following day, since it would be Christmas Eve, and where to get a Christmas tree, the little party broke up.

Harry was well aware that none of the Weasley children had shown up once; he suspected they had been warned not to interrupt the meeting, but he didn´t know wether they´d been told about the reason. If they hadn´t, they very likely had heard everything nevertheless, he thought, as they´d very probably used the Extendable Ears to listen in. He sighed; at least they´d heard Draco´s statements with their own ears then, so to say, he mused.

He was pulled out of these thoughts by Sirius, who offered to show Draco his room. Harry would have loved to protest, as he wanted Draco to stay with him in his room, but he knew of course that it´d be best to at least maintain the pretence, and he read in Draco´s face that he thought so as well.

Sirius led them to a small room in a narrow corridor off the hall; it had formerly been used as a store-room for linen and such, but had hastily been converted into a small bedroom.

Harry couldn´t but grin: "The cupboard under the stairs, eh?" he said to Sirius, who playfully punched him in the shoulder: "Very funny, Mr Potter."

Inwardly, he smiled though: he was relieved to see how Harry´s spirits had obviously lifted in no time.

Though the room actually was significantly bigger than Harry´s cupboard and easily fit a bed, a desk of drawers and Draco´s trunk which had already been brought in, he had to subdue a shudder, since it had no windows.

He tried not to think of it, but of a more pressing problem which had only come to his mind when he had seen the trunk: "Erm... there´s something I have to tell you," he said, blushing furiously.

Sirius raised his eyebrows: "What is it?"

Draco blushed even more at his inquisitive look: "I... I don´t have any fitting clothes."

Sirius didn´t know what he had expected, but certainly not this. "How come?"

Draco glanced at the trunk: "They´re all Finn´s, see, and he´s... smaller than me."

Sirius did his best not to laugh; the poor boy seemed embarassed enough as it was. "We´ll see to that," he said, chuckling. "We´ll adjust them tomorrow, don´t you worry."

Draco looked tremendously relieved.

"I´ll leave you two now," Sirius then said. "Sleep well."

-

Less than a second after bidding him goodnight, Harry and Draco were in each other´s arms again.

"It felt like an eternity," Harry whispered, holding his love tight. "Are you all right?"

"Am I all right? Of course I am, I was worried about you."

"I´m fine," Harry sought to reassure him.

"No, you´re not. You´ve got bags under your eyes, and you´re pale, and your shoulders were drooping when you came in earlier."

"Fine, I´m not fine," Harry admitted, touched by the blond´s concern. Draco stroked Harry´s back: "Want to talk about it?"

"Yeah... let´s go to my room, shall we?"

Hand in hand and unnoticed by anyone they snuck into Harry´s room.

"This is nice," Draco said quietly after he had looked around.

Harry told him about his early Christmas present: "It´s so much better than Privet Drive," he said happily.

Draco smiled, stroking his face: "You deserve it," he said softly.

Harry leaned forward: "I am so very lucky," he mumbled before pressing his mouth onto Draco´s.

Both their bellies began to flutter as they caressed each other lips with their own, drinking in the other´s scent. Harry stroked Draco´s hair with both hands before sliding them down and underneath the blond´s robes.

They slowly undressed each other and crawled into the large bed completely naked. Despite the fire that had been lit in the fireplace, the sheets were cool against their skin, and they shuddered, seeking each other´s proximity.

Huddled against each other and reveling in the feel of the other´s warm body, they snuggled up comfortably.

"I missed you," Harry murmured.

Draco pressed a kiss on his skin: "I missed you, too," he said softly.

"I didn´t know when I´d see you again..."

Harry nodded: "Me neither. And I... I thought I´d go mad. The...vision´s been so realistic, I was afraid of being possessed by Voldemort."

He told Draco about his talk with Ginny, and the blond inwardly thanked the girl.

"I´m glad you´re feeling better now," he finally whispered into Harry´s ear; a sleepy, comfortable silence had spread between them, only interrupted by an occasional sound from the fireplace, while Draco was rubbing gentle circles on Harry´s belly. Instead of an answer, the dark-haired boy buried his face against Draco´s neck and pressed a tender kiss on the soft skin before slowly exhaling and closing his eyes.

That night, neither of them had a nightmare; Harry briefly woke up once but found himself wrapped in Draco´s arms and went back to sleep immediately.

In the morning, Draco woke up because someone was caressing his cheek and pressing gentle kisses on his face. What a luxury to be able to properly wake up together instead of Harry having to sneak out at dawn, he thought while opening his eyes. What a blessing to wake up with Harry at all.

His boyfriend was smiling at him: "Merry Christmas," he chirped. Draco chuckled: "Harry Christmas," he murmured. He had been dreading the holidays, but right now it seemed all right, since he would face them together with Harry.

Harry snuggled back up with the blond: "It´s Christmas Eve, let´s not get up yet," he murmured. "I´m sure we´ll have to do chores as soon as we arrive in the kitchen."

"Okay..." Draco didn´t have any objections.

-

The dark-haired boy had been right; now that Arthur Weasley was on the mend, Molly had set out to prepare Grimmauld Place for Christmas.

She and Sirius had joined forces; when Harry and Draco finally emerged from Harry´s room, one after the other so as not to arouse suspicion, everyone had been made to do something already: the twins were putting up an enormous tree, courtesy of Mundungus Fletcher, Ginny was accompanying Tonks to do grocery shopping, Sirius and Ron were in the attic looking for tinsel and other Christmas decorations, and Molly was in the kitchen, baking and cooking.

When Harry came in, Draco was already seated at the table and was being served breakfast by Mrs Weasley.

"I can´t possibly eat all this," he said feebly, eyeing the large plate full of eggs, bacon and toast, but she only smiled: "Just eat as much as you like," she encouraged him.

When she had first looked him over on the evening before, it had appalled her how thin he was, looking just like Harry had when she had first met him.

She had of course heard stories about Draco from her children, and it had after all been his father who had given her daughter the diary that nearly cost Ginny her life; yet Molly Weasley was able to differentiate between Draco and Lucius, and she was ready to believe the boy, especially after she had witnessed the interrogation and had seen his eyes, which were still looking haunted.

It wasn´t his fault that his father was so cruel, but from the looks of it he had paid for it nevertheless. What had happened to him greatly upset Molly´s maternal instinct, and she was determined to take good care of him while they were living under the same roof.

Harry sat down next to Draco and was treated to the same delicious meal; while they were eating, they watched Mrs Weasley busy herself with at least three things at the same time, humming carols under her breath.

Harry had just given up the attempt to completely empty his plate when Ron came in. He stopped short when he saw Draco, and his face turned red as he looked at Harry afterwards. Harry got to his feet, feeling that this silly argument had been going on too long, but Ron turned on his heels and rushed out again.

Luckily, Mrs Weasley had just vanished in the pantry and hadn´t even noticed someone entering; Harry was glad not having to explain the situation. He looked at Draco, who hesitantly shrugged, mirroring Harry´s own helplessness.

"Excuse me," Harry murmured and followed his best friend.

He found Ron in the room they had shared before Sirius had shown him his new accomodation. The red-haired boy was lying on his bed, his face turned away.

"I am sick and tired of this," Harry said without further ado. "I don´t know what I´ve done, and I don´t want to be treated like an outcast anymore! Why won´t you talk to me?"

At this, Ron spun around: "Are you really asking me this?" he said, obviously agitated. "You´re the one who´s shutting me out! All you´re interested in is Finn, you don´t need my friendship anymore!"

"Rubbish!" Harry spat.

Ron got to his feet: "Oh yeah? Then why did you move to another room?"

Harry stared at him open-mouthed, since this was so unfair, so unreasonable. "You know perfectly well why," he said very quietly. "Because I finally have something like a home, and Sirius gave me my own room."

"Fine," Ron turned pink, "but you could have told me how bad your dreams really were, or about Finn! I wouldn´t have made fun of you or worse, if that´s why you didn´t, and I thought you´d know that! I bet you two had a good laugh about me- Weasley is so thick, he just doesn´t get it! And now there´s Malfoy! What do you want with that git anyway?"

-

Harry suddenly wished Hermione were there. She would be able to calm them down, to make them listen to their own words and see how silly their stupid argument really was- but as it were, she was skiing with her parents and Ron and Harry were alone with their fight.

He looked at Ron´s red, hurt and angry face, and suddenly felt his anger dissolve. "He is no git," he said feebly. "He´s in fact not much different from you or me."

Ron snorted: "Yeah, right."

Harry raised his hands in mock despair: "Okay, so I´m in the wrong here, is that what you want to hear? Maybe I should have told you about Finn, but I just couldn´t- it´s such a completely new situation for me, I couldn´t tell anyone! I hadn´t even understood it myself yet when you found out, and if you don´t believe me and decide to keep hating me for it, fine! Then don´t be my friend!"

He turned around and made for the door. Just as he reached for the handle, though, Ron caught up with him: "Harry, wait!"

His face was still red, but the anger in his eyes had abated.

They stared at each other, lost for words, until Ron finally found his voice: "Hermione said I´m jealous," he murmured, "And maybe she´s right. I mean, I´m not jealous because I´m gay or something, but... you´re my best friend. I still want to be in your life."

The last of Harry´s anger evaporated at these words. "You are my best friend, too" he said quietly. "Nothing will ever change that, stupid!"

Ron´s ears went pink. Harry snorted: "Are we done with fighting now?"

"Yeah. Sorry. And Harry... thanks for... my dad."

"You don´t blame me?" Harry asked almost timidly.

Ron shook his head: "Nah, I talked to Ginny, and besides- you couldn´t have done it, could you?"

Harry still wasn´t so sure about this, but he was grateful to have Ron´s support back.

There was another thing that was bothering him, though: "Ron... about Draco."

Ron eyed him warily: "What about him?"

"I told you about how he has changed, didn´t I?"

"Yeah..."

"I´m not saying you have to like him all of a sudden. I´d just wish you gave him a second chance."

Ron´s face was sullen, but he shrugged: "Okay."

Harry subdued a sigh; he could understand Ron´s resentments, as Draco admittedly had constantly given him a hard time and had abused him and his family wherever he could.

If only Harry could tell Ron that it had been Draco who had played Chess with him during the past few weeks, that it had been Draco who had won Harry´s heart... he couldn´t do that, of course, but he could at least emphasize his point once more: "He saved my life," he therefore reminded his friend. "He could have sold me to Voldemort and refused."

Ron didn´t look at him; he knew about this, of course. But as far as it concerned him, Draco had only been too much of a coward to take Harry on; he just couldn´t imagine that Malfoy could have changed so much.

They were interrupted by Sirius, who was singing carols on top of his voice while decorating the banisters in the hall with holly, causing both of them to grin.

"He´s happy," Harry said.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	20. Happy Christmas

_Warning for this chapter_: another lemony snippet, which means a wee little bit of graphic slash.

Have fun!

**-o-**

**Chapter 20: Happy Christmas**

**-o-O-o-**

-

That afternoon, Harry was supposed to accompany the Weasleys to St. Mungo´s to visit Arthur. He wasn´t too keen on it, but on the other hand didn´t want to show his concerns; he had only told Draco about it. "I feel nauseous whenever I think about it," he said.

Draco stroked his hand: "It will be okay once you´re there," he said. "Mrs Weasley said her husband is doing quite well."

He could tell that Harry was still worried, and he had an inkling as to what the reason for that looked like: "You´re afraid that he might blame you, aren´t you?" he asked softly.

Harry averted his gaze and nodded. He felt stupid, as everyone else had already assured him that they didn´t blame him, and Mrs Weasley had hugged him and thanked him, claiming that it had only been due to Harry that Arthur had been found in time. Yet he couldn´t shake off the guilt that had settled in his stomach.

Draco squeezed his hand: "Mr Weasley didn´t strike me as a man who can´t judge such a situation properly," he said encouragingly. "And he seems kind."

He had been right; Mr Weasley indeed didn´t blame Harry in the least, but thanked him so profusedly that Harry turned flaming red.

They were all chatting for a while, then the Weasley children and Harry went to find the hospital´s tea room to give Mrs Weasley a little privacy with her husband.

On their way there they literally bumped into a familiar looking wizard, who was wandering around the halls in his dressing-gown: Gilderoy Lockhart, who was suffering from the long-term effects of his own spell which had backfired from Ron´s damaged wand.

He seemed well apart from the fact that his brains obviously were severely addled: he apparently was under the impression that he was still famous, even though he couldn´t remember why. He acted quite friendly and cheerful, causing Harry and Ron to exchange guilty looks, and kept writing autographs for his unexpected "visitors" after a friendly nurse had ushered them all inside the closed ward Lockhart had somehow escaped from.

"Good thing Hermione´s not here," Ron muttered under his breath; their friend had obviously had a fling for the man while he had been teaching at Hogwarts. Harry grimaced and was about to answer, when his gaze fell onto an old witch with a stuffed vulture on her hat. A pale, round-faced boy was at her side: Neville Longbottom.

Ron, having noticed his friend´s silence, looked at Harry and then followed his gaze: "Oi, Neville!" he shouted and waved. Neville inexplicably flinched; he turned around and paled when he spotted his housemates.

Oblivious to his evident discomfort, Ron strode over towards him, and Harry reluctantly followed in his wake.

Half an hour later, Ron and Harry were sitting in the tea-room with the others, who were talking animatedly about Lockhart, but neither looked at the other for a while, as they were both pondering what they had just witnessed on the closed ward, and feeling deeply sorry for Neville.

He and his grandmother had been visiting his parents, whom had been tortured into insanity by Death Eaters. Harry couldn´t shake off the images of the prematurely aged bodies with the nearly lifeless eyes, and how Neville had tried to keep his head up high despite his obvious embarassment.

Only what exactly he had been embarassed about Harry couldn´t figure out.

He was utterly glad when they finally returned home, determined not to show Draco his shock; he didn´t want to spoil that evening, and apart from that, the blond boy was probably finding Christmas hard enough to bear anyway.

-

The living room was hardly recognizable; it had lost its dark gloom due to fresh colour on the walls and a plethora of candles. The magnificient tree was emitting a delicious scent which mingled with the promising smell of good food.

Mrs Weasley had prepared a sumptuous, truly delicious meal, and it was all in all a cozy affair; apart from the Weasleys, Harry and Draco, Lupin and Tonks were present as well.

Harry watched his friends´ faces; everyone seemed to be enjoying the evening. Even Sirius, who was currently talking to the twins, seemed content.

Harry´s thoughts went out to Hagrid, accompanied by an almost painful jolt in his stomach; he hoped that his friend was all right and well and didn´t have to spend Christmas alone somewhere.

He also thought of Neville; it had shocked him deeply to see his parents like that. Having lost your parents was one thing, yet that they actually were still there but unable to communicate with you seemed worse.

Ron didn´t speak any more than necessary with Draco apart from "pass me the gravy, please", but at least didn´t scowl at him, which Harry decided to take as progress, if a slow one. The twins didn´t make much of an effort either, only Ginny seemed to think nothing of engaging him in a lenghty conversation about Quidditch.

Harry knew that Draco had had the same qualms about this evening as Harry had had about St. Mungo´s, but now his body slowly lost its tense posture.

Harry was sitting next to the fireplace talking to Remus and Sirius, both of whom were greatly interested in the DA, when he noticed that Ron and Draco had retreated to a far corner of the room, unnoticed by the rest; Harry´s gaze met Remus´, who had watched them as well, and the older wizard now smiled at him: "He´s a good guy," he said quietly. Harry´s heart suddenly felt light and unburdened.

Draco had told him about the little "talk" he had had with Sirius, and he had assumed Remus had had something to do with it all along.

-

Later on, Harry had already crawled under the blankets when Draco slipped into the room and joined him.

"You all right?" he asked sleepily while Draco nestled against him. The blond nodded: "I actually had a good time," he said.

Harry kissed him on top of his head: "I´m glad," he murmured. "Did you talk to Ron?"

"Yeah..." Draco´s head almost vanished under the blankets. "I thought it´s time to apologize, you know... just like Lupin."

"What did he say?"

"At first I thought he was going to punch me, but then he... he nodded and said okay."

"Okay? That´s all?"

"Well, no... he said he thinks I´m still a brat but that he can see that I´m trying, so we´ll somehow get along."

Harry snorted through his nose: "How very generous of him," he said testily, "he´s so hard-headed sometimes!"

Draco wisely didn´t reply to this.

-

Harry woke up early on Christmas morning; pale light was shining through a gap in the curtains, illuminating Draco´s hair. Harry couldn´t resist to touch it; he gently caressed the fine strands, marvelling at how soft they were.

Eventually his fingers wandered over Draco´s cheek and down his neck before they went exploring underneath the blanket. The tender touches soon evoked a reaction; Draco moaned softly as Harry was playing with his navel, not completely awake yet.

Harry smiled and lightly drew his fingernails around it, deliciously grazing the soft skin. He continued to tease like this until Draco finally opened his eyes.

He slowly pulled Harry towards him, and they kissed hungrily, eager to feel the other´s body.

Nothing else seemed of importance than the touch of the beloved´s hand, the warmth they shared and the pleasure they felt.

Harry turned them around and opened his legs so that Draco was lying between them; he couldn´t believe how good that felt, how intimate, and how much heat was between them.

Draco tenderly kissed Harry´s chest, teased his nipples with his tongue until Harry was panting; their hands met between their stomachs, and both of them moaned when they closed their entwined fingers around both their members, massaging and pulling at them, building up their pleasure until they released simultaneously, panting and moaning.

Draco lowered himself on top of Harry, careful not to put his full weight onto him, and so they lay listening to the blood rushing in their ears and their eventually calming heartbeats until both of them dozed off once more, despite the sticky wetness between them.

The next time Draco awoke because Harry was gently shaking his shoulder: "Wake up, baby," he whispered, "my leg´s fallen asleep, and it´s Christmas!"

Draco grinned even before he had opened his eyes: "I have got to remember that sentence," he murmured, before rolling off his boyfriend, who grimaced and tried to revive his limb by massaging it with one hand while using the other to pull Draco close once more.

They looked each other in the eyes, overwhelmed by their feelings: "I love you," Harry finally murmured. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," Draco replied, inexplicably feeling a lump in his throat. "Love you, too..."

Harry suddenly grinned broadly: "Presents!" He sat up and reached under the bed, from where he produced a carefully wrapped present, which he handed the blond boy. Draco blushed as he slowly unwrapped it. Inside he found a finely crafted wooden box, made of polished ash; it had the picture of a Snitch intricately carved into the lid.

"I know you miss Quidditch," Harry said. "It´s for the first Snitch you´ll catch when you play again."

Draco swallowed; the lump was still there and seemed to grow. Madam Pomfrey had advised him not to play Quidditch at first, and Professor McGonagall had later spoken to him about it as well: "We can´t take any risks. If someone recognizes your flying style, your cover might blow up." Even though Draco considered that as highly unlikely, he had conceded.

He had never told Harry how much he really missed Quidditch, but Harry was perceptive enough to know anyhow.

"There´s something in it," the dark-haired boy now said, motioning towards the box. When Draco opened it, he found a bottle of shampoo inside. _The_ shampoo. He laughed, and Harry joined in: "Thank Merlin for that day," he then said quietly, still smiling, and Draco agreed. He wordlessly leaned forward and kissed Harry.

"I have something for you as well," he said afterwards after clearing his throat, leaning forward and rummaging under his side of the bed. He handed Harry an equally careful wrapped present, which the dark-haired boy opened eagerly: inside was a model of a Quidditch Player, not unlike the dragon Harry had gotten for the Triwizard Tournament.

It was a Seeker from the looks of it, and Harry thought he knew what it did: "Wow, Draco," he breathed. "It´s an Auto-Trainer, isn´t it?"

Draco nodded: "It seems we were both thinking of Quidditch," he said softly. Harry smiled while he studied the model raptly. It came with a device that you could attach to your broom during training; if you re-attached it to the model´s stand afterwards, the player could repeat your every move, thus effectively helping to review and improve them.

"I´ve wanted one for years," Harry said with shining eyes. Draco´s smile reminded Harry that it was his turn to kiss thanks.

"You didn´t spend too much on it, did you?" he then couldn´t stop himself from asking. Draco had expected this, since he literally didn´t have any money, and sought to reassure him: "Don´t worry about it. Professor Dumbledore and I have sorted it out."

The Headmaster had indeed talked to Draco about money one day, shortly after he had arrived at Hogwarts: "You cannot go without any," he had said, steepling his hands together and watching the boy attentively, "and it´s not very likely that you still have access to any accounts you might have in Gringott´s. I assume that your father will have arranged for them to be watched."

Draco had nodded sadly; it was more than likely.

"I have however talked to Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore continued, "and we have agreed that it´s only sensitive to... invest in your future."

When Draco had looked at him with a puzzled expression at this, the old wizard´s eyes had twinkled mischievously: "I firmly believe that a student achieves better results when he´s happy- and this requires not only friends and a place to call home, but also the occasional treat. Thus we´ve decided to give you the equivalent of an allowance."

Draco blushed even more; he was grateful and ashamed by the old man´s kindness, but he knew he couldn´t accept the offer.

"I can´t," he had stammered, "it´s too kind, but... I really don´t-"

"No buts, dear boy, let me assure you that you can."

Draco had fumbled for words: "Then... at least let me pay it back, please."

"We´ll see about that," the headmaster´s eyes had been twinkling once more. "Don´t you worry."

Draco had nodded nervously: "Thank you, Professor... I appreciate it."

-

Harry eventually turned to the small heap of presents at the end of the bed and unwrapped those as well: the traditional Weasley Jumper and a box of Liquorice Wands from Ron´s parents, two heavy but brilliant books about Defense Against the Dark Arts from Remus Lupin and a box of Wizarding Wheezes from Ron. The last present was from Hermione; it was a book as well. Harry read the title and spontaneously began to cough: _How to Make Him Happy_.

"Hermione!" he croaked, turning violently red. Draco burst into laughter when he saw the title, and Harry didn´t know what amused the blond more: the book or Harry´s display of embarassment.

Draco was still laughing when they went to have a shower together in Harry´s bathroom, washing off the remainders of their intimacy and putting the shampoo to use. They took a long time.

When Draco returned to his own room later, he was surprised to find some more presents at the end of his bed as well: a pair of soft, hand-knitted socks and a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Mrs Weasley, a Sneakoscope from Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, a book on self-defense from Malcolm, and a small parcel from Madam Pomfrey.

She had sent him a set of handwarmers; one could put them into one´s pockets and they would magically stay warm. She obviously had remembered how cold Draco´s hands often had been.

He suddenly thought of his mother; she had always been frail, had often had cold hands. He remembered how he had tried to warm them when he had been very young, had rubbed them between his own small hands while she had laughed, delighted by her little boy´s care... her laughter was still ringing in his ears.

Draco slowly sank down onto the edge of the mattress, clutching the ribbon which had been wrapped around the parcel, the blood pounding in his ears; he suddenly missed his mother with a force that made him gasp, and he once more wished he could have protected her, could have saved her... he didn´t even have a grave to visit, and that realization made him shiver.

He didn´t know for how long he had been sitting there, fighting back the despair that was threatening to overwhelm him, but sudden sounds on the stairs had him flinch out of his stupor. He was still trembling, but concentrated hard on the voices in the hall: "Shhh, not so loud, you´ll have Mrs Black go off again..."

He wrapped his arms around himself and inhaled the faint traces of Harry´s scent that were surrounding him, calming him down immensely. He looked at his presents again: Harry had been right, he wasn´t alone. And that was more than he´d ever have expected.

-

The next few days were relatively quiet, apart from occasional havoc caused by Fred and George, who were relentlessly working on the Wizarding Wheezes, much to Molly´s chagrin. Sirius, Harry, Draco, Ron and Ginny spent a lot of time in the living room with the Christmas tree; it was cozy and warm and much more inviting than most the rest of the house.

Harry and Draco had to pull themselves together not to disappear in Harry´s room all the time or give anything away in some other way. Thus Harry spent a lot of time playing Chess with Ron, who seemed appeased, yet still not completely at ease with Draco´s constant presence.

He did however wish Draco good luck at New Year´s Eve, and managed to keep the grump out of his voice at that. He had to admit that Draco was hardly recognizable without his trademark sneer and constant taunting, but he found it hard to believe that the pale blond boy had indeed changed this much and that it would be permanent.

Apart from that, he couldn´t but notice the way Draco looked at Harry sometimes; it was quite the opposite of the former hateful expression he had usually had, and Ron wasn´t sure wether Harry responded in a similar fashion or wether he was just imagining things.

One evening, shortly before they were returning to Hogwarts, he therefore used the opportunity to talk to Harry about it when they were both doing the dishes after a sumptuous tea. Mr Weasley had been released from hospital and was currently sitting in the living room with the others, thus they were alone in the kitchen.

"That Finn," Ron said as casually as he could, taking Harry by surprise, "he´s a good guy."

Harry looked at him as though a two-headed, singing alien had suddenly replaced his best friend, but didn´t reply. Ron hastily continued: "Is it... you know, serious with you two?"

"How come you suddenly want to talk about Finn?" Harry asked once he had recovered his voice.

Ron took a deep breath: "Look, I like Finn and when I´ve said I´m okay with it, I meant it. But I´ve seen the way Malfoy looks at you sometimes when he thinks no one is watching, so I thought..."

"No need to worry," Harry said with as much conviction as he could, even though he suddenly felt faint. "I´m with Finn a hundred percent."

"So... is Malfoy... gay as well?"

Harry tried to look indifferent:"Maybe... how would I know?"

Ron shrugged, looking so clearly relieved that Harry couldn´t resist splashing some water at him: "There´s no secret signal between us, you know?" he said weakly in an attempt to make a joke even though his knees felt like jelly.

He didn´t want to imagine how Ron would react if he ever found out about the Polyjuice and who Finn Bailey really was.

-

Draco had anticipated the meeting with Arthur Weasley almost as timidly as Harry had; the man had forever been treated like dirt by Lucius Malfoy, and Draco felt ashamed, once more, for everything that had transpired between the two families.

Yet when he had entered the living room, the red-haired man had excused himself from his family, who had assembled in front of the fireplace like a picture from an advertisement, and had approached Draco with a benign smile, one arm outstretched: "Draco," he had said quietly, gripping the boy´s hand and shaking it, "glad to see you´re well!"

Draco had blushed: "Shouldn´t that have been my line?" he had asked, eliciting a chuckle: "It seems we´ve both gone through a rather rough patch," Mr Weasley had replied. "Let me just say how much I appreciate your braveness. Not many would have stood their ground as determinedly as you have."

He had seen the colour drain from Draco´s face and, interpreting it correctly, hastily added ,"of course I can only guess what has happened, but Albus Dumbledore has informed me that you have saved Harry´s life."

"Er... not directly," Draco had objected feebly. "I... there wasn´t much of a choice, really. All I did was to refuse help catching him."

"Why, but that´s splendid, dear boy," Mr Weasley had beamed at him.

His words were still reeling through Draco´s mind half an hour later; he had retreated from the crowd in order to sort out his thoughts. What had he really done, except deciding to act decent for once? He certainly didn´t deserve the praise he had gotten tonight; he wasn´t the brave person Mr Weasley was taking him for.

He couldn´t even show his real face in school, for Merlin´s sake, because it was too dangerous- and because he was a coward, always had been one, right?

He could hear his mother´s laughter in his mind again and began to hug himself. He hadn´t even tried to go back and find her. Another, less cowardly person would have done so, he was sure; _Harry_ would have done.

He couldn´t compete with Harry, he wasn´t nearly as brave as him; one day, Harry certainly would see this as well, and then he would want to get rid of Draco, who was used and broken anyway; he could still feel the dirt and the blood, could still tell where it was clinging to his skin and wouldn´t come off no matter how often he washed.

He couldn´t expect Harry to be with him, not while he was tainted...

-

Harry´s mind had reeled as well after the talk with Ron; he had gone upstairs and had hidden in Buckbeak´s room for a while, not wanting to face anyone; the Hippogriff had stared at him curiously, but at least it didn´t talk.

Harry sighed; there was no way he could tell Ron about Draco, not now.

He would have to sit it out.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

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	21. Little Boy Lost

Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always!

Loreley Takarai has offered to translate this story into Spanish, the first chapter of which is up now, for those of you who´re interested.

o

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 21: Little Boy Lost  
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**-o-O-o-**

-

Draco didn´t turn up for dinner, but people were so preoccupied with other matters, like Mr Weasley´s long-awaited presence or returning to school, that only Harry seemed to notice. He went looking for his boyfriend, who was neither in Harry´s nor his own room.

The dark-haired boy looked everywhere for him without success, and eventually began to panic.

He went back to the living room and beckoned Sirius towards him: "I can ´t find Draco,"he whispered. "He wasn´t at dinner either!"

Sirius only nodded, drawing his wand, and helped him search the house.

-

In the end they found Draco in one of the bathrooms upstairs; he was in the shower, frantically rubbing his arms. At first Harry thought that the blond was simply trying to get warm, but then he saw that Draco´s skin was red and almost raw from the repeated treatment.

Unthinkingly, Harry stepped into the stall, wrapping his arms around the blond to keep him from harming himself while Sirius turned off the spray: "Draco! What are you doing?" he gasped.

Draco was shivering, since the water had long turn cold: "I´m dirty..." he mumbled, wide-eyed and with a choked voice. "I can´t get clean..."

Harry´s heart melted with worry and sympathy. He took the towel Sirius had meanwhile retrieved and wrapped the trembling boy into it: "It´s okay," he whispered, pulling Draco close, "it´s okay..."

Draco sagged against Harry, who manoevered them out of the shower stall; Sirius quickly stepped forward to prevent Draco from falling, and together they helped him to Harry´s bedroom in silent understanding.

In front of the fire Harry quickly dried him off, then Sirius spelled his nightclothes onto him and they tucked him into the bed.

"I´ll go get some tea," Sirius said quietly.

Nodding, Harry crawled under the blanket with Draco and pulled him close. He was still shivering but pressed himself against Harry, who nuzzled his hair with his cheek unhappily: he had been warned that there might be setbacks, but he hadn´t expected them to be this bad; he had expected nightmares, not this. "You´ll be fine," he murmured, kissing Draco´s temple, "you´ll be okay... I´m here with you now, I won´t leave you..."

When Sirius returned with a mug of steaming tea a little while later, Draco had stopped trembling. Harry propped him up against his chest just as he had done back in Privet Drive and helped him drink it slowly. It occured to Harry that his love´s body felt still as thin and frail as it had back then.

Wonderful warmth spread through Draco, and he felt sleepy when the mug was empty.

Sirius had put a bit of Sleeping Draught into it. He watched the boys in silence for a while; Harry seemed to know what he was doing.

"Will you two be all right?" he eventually asked quietly. His godson nodded: "Thanks," he whispered. Sirius gave him a sad smile and left for the night.

Harry put the mug aside, quickly changed into his nightclothes as well and slipped back into bed, gathering a very exhausted Draco in his arms: "I´m here for you, baby," he whispered, tenderly nudging the blond´s nose with his own and placing soft kisses on his face, "I love you."

"B-but I´m dirty..."

Harry only tightened his grip around him: "How many times do I have to tell you that to me you are not, silly?" he said quietly, looking Draco straight in the eyes: "To me you are the most beautiful person in the world."

Draco looked stunned, and very slowly his eyes began to swim: "You c-can´t bother with m-me, y-you shouldn´t-" he began, but Harry gently cut across him: "Yes, I can," he said firmly. "I have, in fact, for the past few months in case you haven´t noticed, and I fully intend to keep it that way."

Draco´s tears now spilled over, and his shoulders shook as he continued to look at Harry; he seemed utterly desperate. "They hurt me," he sobbed, barely audible. "It hurt so much, Harry, it hurt so terribly..."

Harry tenderly pulled him closer until Draco´s cheek was resting against the hollow of Harry´s neck, feeling near tears: he hated the images that these words conjured up in his mind, and he wished he could make them undone.

"They´ll never hurt you again, baby," he whispered into the blond´s ear. "You´re safe now..."

"I´m dirty," Draco breathed chokedly; he was still shaking when his sobbing finally abated.

Harry cradled him close; the thought of what the blond had had to endure was almost too much to bear, and Harry´s eyes were swimming as he gently reinforced his grip: "How can you say that you are dirty when your love is the purest thing I have ever had?" the scarred boy whispered. "The reason which helped me endure everything that has happened in school since Umbridge arrived?"

Draco drew a long, ragged breath before he sagged against Harry: "I love you so much..." he slurred, his eyes finally closing.

Harry gently stroked over Draco´s hair; his back was prickling with unpent emotions. The blond had become the most important person in Harry´s world, the one he truly loved, and this realization made him so happy that he felt the urge to shout it out again, despite the anger that was coursing through him when he thought of the Death Eaters.

Simultaneously, he couldn´t imagine to be anywhere but precisely where he was at this moment; it felt right, and he knew that despite the despair that sometimes drowned Draco and made him act like tonight, he trusted Harry.

"I love you, too," Harry whispered into Draco´s ear. And he knew now that he wanted to take revenge on those who had made Draco suffer, even though it had indirectly brought him and Harry together.

-

"We should have expected something like that," Sirius said the next day; Harry was helping him to remove the holly garlands from the banisters. His godfather had been very quiet ever since New Year; he dreaded being alone again.

At least he now had something else on his mind, Harry thought. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"The holidays must have been very distressing for Draco, seeing as they will have reminded him of his family and what has happened."

Harry looked at Sirius and suddenly felt like an arse: "Right," he murmured. "I thought he was okay... he seemed so composed... I believed him when he said he was fine..."

"Don´t blame yourself," Sirius said. "If he didn´t let anything on, he probably was feeling okay most of the time. Malcolm told me that he had one of these setbacks just before returning to Hogwarts as well, and that it had come very suddenly."

"Really? What happened?"

Sirius told Harry what Malcolm had told him. Harry was agitated: "I never knew about that!"

"Does it surprise you? I am sure Draco isn´t proud of it."

Harry snorted: "He should´ve told me anyway," he mumbled. Sirius subdued a smile at how protective Harry was of his boyfriend.

"Give him time," he said quietly. "Let him come to grips with it himself first."

"But I do! I am as patient as... as..."

"As your father, when it comes to that," Sirius grinned.

"Har har," Harry said, evidently miffed, but inexplicably also pleased with himself at the comparison.

"I know it´s not easy," Sirius said after a moment of silence,"and you´ve once more shown a lot of strength and inner maturity during the past months; few people could´ve coped with all these new developments in their lives as well as you did, under Umbridge´s nose at that. But you have to realize that it will even take a lot more time for Draco to heal, even though he seems to feel safe with you and is doing as well as can expected."

He turned to look Harry in the eyes: "The human soul is a fragile thing, Harry," he added very softly.

Harry nodded somewhat downtrodden, never noticing how forlorn Sirius looked for a moment. The younger wizard didn´t know that his godfather was suffering from nightmares as well, had in fact cast a Silencing Charm on his bed so as not to alert anyone.

"He doesn´t want me to treat him like a porcelain doll though," Harry then said. "Yet that was exactly what I had to do yesterday evening, wasn´t it? He was so distraught..."

"Patience and time," Sirius repeated. "It´s a thin line to find out what´s needed and when, but you seem to be doing well."

"He, too," Harry murmured. "He´s been there for me when I had nightmares... he can be so reassuring, and I feel safe with him as well. He´s..."

"He´s worth it," Sirius quietly ended the sentence for him. Harry nodded, looking up, and found his godfather smiling at him.

"You´re not disappointed?" Harry suddenly heard himself ask. The question had been burning on his tongue ever since he had first told Sirius that he was gay and in love with a certain boy.

Sirius slowly shook his head: "Why on earth should I?" he asked. "I couldn´t be more proud of you if you were my own son, and I know your parents would be as well. You deserve to be happy, and if Draco makes you happy, then it´s fine with me."

Harry looked down on his hands, laughing quietly, and felt tears in his eyes at the same time. "Thanks," he murmured.

Sirius however gently laid his hand on Harry´s cheek and lifted his head so the boy would look at him: "There´s no need to be ashamed of what you are or what you feel," he said softly.

Harry nodded; he was grateful for his godfather´s support, yet there was something else he had to know, so he swallowed around the lump in his throat to ask another question which had been bothering him:"Even if it´s Draco?" It came out in a whisper.

Strangely enough, Sirius´ smile deepened as he regarded the boy, though his voice was serious as he spoke: "I trust your judgement," he said softly. "I admit that I was concerned about it at first, but now... I´ve spent some time with Draco, after all, and it´s evident that he´s changed; he´s nothing at all like you described him before all this happened . There seems no trace of Lucius left in him, apart from his looks. And I think he´s proven to us that he´s not the cold kid he tried to be during the past years, hasn´t he?"

Harry smiled despite his swimming eyes: "Yeah, he has."

-

Draco was sitting in the kitchen, his fingers wrapped around a mug of tea. He only had a very hazy recollection of the previous day´s events, but was thoroughly embarassed about his breakdown. Harry had been very loving and affectionate when they had woken up, telling him that it was all right, but Draco felt terrible nevertheless.

The kitchen was deserted, which suited the blond boy just fine. Why couldn´t he get a grip, why did he have to have these drawbacks? How long would it take for him until he was done with processing?

He crabbily stared into his tea when someone came in; it was Ron. He frowned for a second before nodding a greeting: "What are you doing?"

Draco shrugged: "Worrying, I guess," he said softly. His voice sounded tired, and Ron could see that he had dark rings underneath his eyes. He hadn´t expected such an honest answer; the old Malfoy would have answered with a snotty retort. The new one, the one who had actually apologized to Ron for everything he had ever said and done to him, seemed strangely defeated.

Before Ron could stop himself, he motioned towards the door: "Care for a game of chess?" Draco smiled hesitantly and almost shyly before answering: "Why not?"

Harry ogled at the unexpected sight when he came into the living room a while later: Draco and Ron playing chess together in front of the fireplace, and neither of them was bleeding or scowling.

-

That evening, Draco´s spirits had lifted a little when they crawled into bed. He had had a good time with Ron, and he was eternally glad that the red-head had given him a chance. If Ron could, others would hopefully be able to as well.

Harry pulled him close: "Feeling better?" he asked quietly.

Draco nodded: "I might have more bad days like that though," he said tentatively. "I had one in summer..." And he told Harry what Sirius had already told him, but Harry was glad that Draco did.

"I thought I was going mad," Draco whispered in the end. "But Madam Pomfrey said I was processing, and that it´s a slow progress."

"She´s probably right," Harry said, pressing a kiss on Draco´s hair. "I guess Christmas wasn´t easy, huh?"

Draco sighed: "It wasn´t as bad as I had feared, thanks to you."

Harry smiled at this, but he couldn´t let go of the topic so easily: "Are you still dreaming of it?" he asked almost timidly.

He could feel the blond boy tense in his arms, which was an answer in itself, and wished he hadn´t asked that, when Draco spoke: "Sometimes... and it´s very vivid, I can still feel the cold... and... what they did..."

Harry quickly reinforced his embrace: "You don´t need to tell me," he said very softly.

Draco shook his head: "Maybe I should," he whispered. "So you can understand..."

Even as he pressed still closer against Harry, the dark-haired boy wanted to tell him that he didn´t need to, that he didn´t want Draco to relive the horrors he´d been subjected to, but the other boy was already beginning to speak.

He was trembling, small tremors that increased steadily while he told Harry about Voldemort´s attempts to subdue Draco, and how the Death Eaters had finally added a completely different kind of torture.

His voice was barely audible when he spoke about how his father had come to his cell one day, and gave out completely as he tried to describe what Lucius had later done to him; at this point, Draco couldn´t go on and exhaustedly sagged against Harry, who was trembling as well. He didn´t exactly know what he had imagined, but it was much worse to hear it from the victim´s own mouth.

-

For a long time, they simply held on to each other as tightly as they could, and none of them was aware that they were both shedding silent tears of grief. Harry felt bad for bringing the topic up, especially right after Draco´s breakdown in the shower, but he couldn´t think of anything appropriate to say which would undo the shock, which would soothe the raw emotional pain.

"I´ll protect you," Harry finally whispered, his voice thick, "I´ll never allow anyone to harm you again."

Draco wanted to protest, to tell Harry that he couldn´t possibly burden himself like that, and that he, Draco, had to take over the responsibility for his own safety if he ever wanted to feel in control of the situation again; yet he couldn´t speak. What if something happened to Harry, or worse, what if Harry and he broke up for some reason, whom would he turn to then?

A small voice in his mind chided him at this, told him that there were others who cared about him as well, but he was skeptical: they were all Harry´s friends, after all, and would very likely choose the scarred boy´s side if necessary.

He felt like a traitor while all these thoughts reeled through his mind, for Harry didn´t deserve this kind of doubt, on the contrary. And it wasn´t that Draco didn´t trust him, after all- he trusted Harry more than anyone else. In fact, he was the only person Draco trusted, as he had lost all confidence in himself.

He knew he had tried to be brave, had promised to try and help defeat Voldemort, but right now he wasn´t sure wether he could, when all he wanted to do was hide here in this house, in this bed and these arms, for all eternity.

The fire had almost burned down and the room was quite dark when Harry shifted and moved to sit up; Draco had dozed off at one point and opened his eyes now, shivering in the sudden absence of warmth. A moment later, however, Harry was back and huddled against him as before. His hand sought Draco´s , who felt something pressing against it and automatically opened it.

A small object touched his palm, and he didn´t need to look at it to be certain what it was: the small paper bird he had given Harry for his birthday. As though the dark-haired boy had known exactly what Draco had thought. He unconsciously smiled as his fingers cautiously curled around the frail little shape, knowing perfectly well what Harry wanted to tell him.

Slowly he lifted the bird up to his face; the creamy parchment shimmered in the darkness, a ray of hope. It had come with a silent, mutual promise, Draco remembered. The will to persevere.

Draco stroked the slightly worn off edges with one finger; the summer seemed an eternity ago, yet he still knew how it had felt to discover that something inside him was still willing to fight, even after all he had suffered. If he had been that determined back then, while he had still been recovering from his physical injuries, he certainly could muster that determination now, couldn´t he? It had to be somewhere inside him.

"Thanks for reminding me," Draco eventually whispered and sought his boyfriend´s gaze.

Harry´s expression was soft as he eyed the blond: "Anytime," he replied, his voice equally low.

-

Sirius sat with Buckbeak. The Hippogriff was fast asleep, yet its company had a calming effect on the man; he had marveled at the animal´s quiet strength from the first moment on, and was glad to have it here with him, in this mostly deserted house he still couldn´t bring himself to call home.

The past two weeks had been good, though, as it had been filled with people and a general air of reprieve; but that had only been due to the circumstances, and as soon as the kids would leave for Hogwarts and the Weasleys would return to the Burrow, Sirius would be alone once more, rolling around in the emptiness like a single pea in a shoebox.

He had traded one prison for another, he mused darkly, as long as he didn´t get the opportunity to clear his name.

He had tried to distract himself from impatience and fury and self-pity, had continued on cleaning the house, had read the books Remus had brought him, had spent time with Buckbeak or the dusty old grand piano in the drawing room. The latter was something he had hated as a child; his mother had forced Regulus and him to take lessons, and he naturally had been reluctant to learn properly, had never exercised regularly whereas Regulus had been brilliant, at least in the eyes of their parents.

Yet one day when Sirius had strolled through the rooms he had sat down in front of the instrument and opened the lid without thinking; he had slowly run his fingers over the keys, wiping off dust and memories, and had tentatively struck first one key, then another, until his hand had remembered a melody.

The familiar, long forgotten notes had reverberated through the room while he had played increasingly at ease, with his eyes closed; the music floated around him, seemingly too loud at first, then comforting, and had left a hole after the last tone had died away.

From that point on he had returned to the Drawing Room many times, as though drawn by a magnet; sometimes he had played, sometimes he had simply sat there, his right hand flat on the smooth keys, his left supporting himself as he´d otherwise have sagged, weighed down by memories and loneliness.

He was thinking of music now, his eyes resting on the bones which gave evidence of Buckbeak´s latest meal without registering them; the drama which inhered in his favourite melody just mirrored life. There was no beauty without pain, wasn´t that a famous quote? No love without pain either. He sighed; it certainly held true.

He smiled sadly when his train of thoughts reached Harry; Harry, who had found love, who was leaving his childhood behind now. Sirius didn´t begrudge him his relationship, yet he felt a slight pang in his heart when he thought of it; sooner or later, Harry wouldn´t need him anymore.

He and his godson had hardly gotten to know each other, yet it seemed that they´d never get the chance to be what came next to a family; after their last year at Hogwarts, Harry and Draco would probably want to stay together, moving somewhere where they´d have their privacy, given that they´d be free to do so at that time, not being hunted anymore.

Sirius buried his face in his hands: he shouldn´t feel jealous, but he couldn´t stall the sting he felt. For the umpteenth time in his life he wished that everything had turned out differently, that Voldemort hadn´t been born, and that life would be easier. He drew a ragged breath: "Stop whining, Black," he told himself.

He had to remain strong, for Harry. As long as Voldemort and people like Dolores Umbridge were still out there and made other people´s lives miserable, he could still be of help.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

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_Author´s note_:

Here´s the song which inspired me to write the piano-scene: **http : // www . youtube . com / watch?v = S7TcyRl1POY**

Just remove the blank spaces or go to my profile page, where I´ve posted the actual link!

I´ve uploaded it because of the music, that´s why there´s not an actual video accompanying it, but I´ve added a picture of the Sirius I´ve had in my head while reading _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ long before the movie was made... ;D

-

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	22. How To Make Him Happy

_Hello my dears_, just a quick warning: this chapter contains explicit sex between two males.

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 22: How To Make Him Happy  
**

**-o-O-o-**

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On the evening before they returned to Hogwarts, Draco was lying on the bed in Harry´s room, reading in _How To Make Him Happy_, when his boyfriend came back in from the kitchen and sank down onto the edge of the bed as though he´d been deflated. He had been held back by Mrs Weasley after dinner, but she hadn´t said why.

Before the blond could ask what had happened, however, Harry turned to him: "Snape is going to teach me Occlumency!" His tone suggested that he had just been told he was about to die, slowly and painfully.

Draco took a moment to comprehend: "Snape? - What´s Occlumency?"

Harry sighed: "It means to close your mind, so no one else can... intrude. You know, because of my dreams."

"Oh," Draco put the book aside, pondering this. "And I guess he has to try and intrude in order to..." He broke off, his gaze meeting Harry´s. Both were thinking the same, thus both blushed. "He mustn´t know," Draco said weakly. "What if he- finds out about us?"

Harry shrugged, still too miffed about it himself: "I don´t know, and I can´t see a way to get out of it. Apparently Dumbledore thinks it´s a good idea," he mumbled, running his hands through his hair in a helpless gesture, "he trusts Snape for some reason."

Draco averted his gaze; his own feelings for the Potions master were ambiguous. He had known him for a long time and had usually gotten along with him well; apart from that, Snape was providing him with the Polyjuice which was necessary to maintain his cover.

On the other hand, the man was a Death Eater. Even though he hadn´t been among those who had mistreated Draco, he still was a frequent guest at Malfoy Manor. Draco was aware that Snape provided Dumbledore and the rest of the Order with the latest news on Lucius quite regularly, though Draco tried to ignore it.

He knew that he only needed to go and ask Sirius wether his father was still looking for him, and where, yet he didn´t dare.

As long as he managed to keep the thought of Voldemort and everything that had to do with him at bay, he could manage. He needed the illusion of normality; if he followed the developments too closely, he´d probably not even manage to get out of bed and into the most mundane of daily routines, despite Harry.

Who was currently trying to get Draco´s attention: "Hey you," he said softly, after his boyfriend had snapped out of his thoughts. "Let´s forget about it for now, okay? I don´t want the last day of freedom to end like this."

Draco exhaled slowly, allowing his relief to wash over him, and concentrated on Harry instead. He could do that, he just needed to look into those amazing green eyes, which were regarding him so affectionately; butterflies made themselves known in his stomach at once, and he felt the familiar rush of warmth when their gazes locked.

"What would you like to do?" he asked, swallowing; he could distinctly feel a certain kind of heat pooling in his groin even before a mischievous smile spread on the dark-haired boy´s face: "What does the book say?" Harry motioned towards _How To Make Him Happy_.

Draco couldn´t help but grin: "Oh, it´s quite interesting," he murmured, sitting up and pulling Harry close until the other boy was lying with his back against Draco´s chest; he inhaled the other´s scenthis hands started to knead Harry´s shoulders, while his mouth was nipping along his ear: "It advises you to pay attention to your partner, cherish him..." His warm breath gave Harry goosebumps.

The blond´s hands were gentle yet strong, their slow, steady administrations heavenly. He closed his eyes as Draco continued in a very low, almost husky voice: "Tell him he´s attractive, and what you love about him... such as his very soft skin..."

Harry shuddered as Draco began nibbling at his earlobe while his hands went exploring underneath the other boy´s shirt.

"It then says to take it slowly," he whispered while he ran the tips of his fingers over Harry´s belly, "to hold off on... carnal activities... to get to know each other first..."

Harry moaned as Draco played with his navel, arching his back a little: "We did that, didn´t we?" he managed to say, panting slightly as Draco played with the waistband of his trousers.

The blond grazed his teeth along the sensitive skin of Harry´s throat ever so slightly: "We did," he confirmed softly, "so I think we don´t need to _hold off_... unless you _want_ me to stop..."

"Don´t you _dare_..."

-

Chuckling, Draco continued to kiss along Harry´s neck; one of his hands wandered up to pull the collar of the other´s shirt aside and allow him access to the collarbone and shoulder. Pleasant shivers were running down Harry´s spine as Draco teased him like that while his other hand was still occupied with his belly.

The dark-haired boy was once more astonished by his lover´s unexpected boldness as Draco finally opened the button and fly of Harry´s trousers; one hand sneaked inside and gently cupped the bulk that had developed in the meantime, the sensation of pressure and friction causing Harry to buck into the touch.

His lids were fluttering and his mouth was slightly open. He seemed hardly aware what was going on until Draco began to shift slowly: "I need to undress you now," the blond whispered while he moved away from behind Harry, who lay back on the pillow while the blond wizard lay down next to him, their bodies close together.

Harry reached out to turn off the reading lamp: the only light now came from the fire, its soft glow bathing the room just like its warmth did.

For a moment, they only looked at each other, finding their own longing and affection mirrored in each other´s eyes, then Harry reached up and pulled Draco into a passionate kiss.

"I want you," he gasped in between when Draco stopped for a moment to remove his meanwhile fogged-up glasses.

The blond began to unbutton Harry´s shirt while they were kissing, picking up to caress him where he had left off. He kissed his way down the dark-haired boy´s throat, gently nipping at the skin from time to time, until he had reached his chest; Harry gave soft mewls as Draco was alternately teasing his nipples with his tongue, shuddering delicately as the blond moved further down, kissing his way to Harry´s navel and gently sucking at it while his hands tugged at his boyfriend´s trousers.

Harry lifted his hips a little to help, and soon found himself almost naked. "Unfair," he moaned and pulled Draco close to him once more, demanding that he get rid of his clothes as well.

A moment later, both of them were merely wearing their boxers. Harry´s hands ran over Draco´s pale body reverently, eliciting pleasant shudders: Draco´s breathing quickened considerably, and he was soon looking flushed.

"I want you," Harry repeated softly, gently but firmly folding Draco into his arms until he was lying on top of Harry.

Both boys moaned when they felt their erections rubbing against each other´s, separated by two thin layers of cloth only, and Harry let his legs fall open. He loved the warm weight of Draco settling between them and the intimate position they were in; he had never shared something similar with anyone.

They kissed hungrily, hands roaming each other´s body, until Harry gently but with the urgency of unfulfilled need pushed Draco on his back and began kissing his way down his torso just as the blond had done before.

The former Slytherin closed his eyes as he felt Harry´s hand against his swollen flesh and then discarding of his boxers; his stomach jolted anxiously for a moment and he fisted his hands into the blanket beneath him when he felt Harry´s breath on his skin, followed by the sensation of a tongue touching the head of his member.

He couldn´t stop himself from mewling softly however when warm, wet heat engulfed the head, a tongue stroking over the most sensitive spots exploringly, and found it hard not to buck his hips when Harry, emboldened by the sounds he was eliciting from his lover, began to suck.

-

Harry had never tried this before, but he was eager to explore; he wanted to pleasure Draco, to share something with him no one else did, and he realized that this was nothing like he had expected it. He had inhaled the heady scent of Draco´s member and was surprised to find it arousing, just as the very soft flesh he was currently stimulating with his mouth and the salty droplets of precome he could taste.

He could feel his jaws beginning to protest after a while, but didn´t pay it any heed: Draco was writhing and panting so deliciously underneath him, and it felt so good to hold his slender hip with one hand and caressing his balls and perineum with the other, all the while knowing that the blond wizard was in heaven, that he didn´t care.

He only stopped himself when Draco began to pant: "Harry, wait... too fast..."

Harry slid up again and resumed his former position, tenderly cupping the other´s heated cheek: "I love you," he whispered.

Draco leaned forward to kiss him once more, slower this time; he could taste the echo of his own fluid, but it wasn´t bad. Harry made it seem natural, and he couldn´t believe that he had actually been afraid for a moment.

It wasn´t long before Harry´s boxers were finally gone as well, and he felt Draco´s slender fingers stroke his already straining flesh until it was Harry´s turn to interrupt: "Stop... too close..." He took Draco´s hand in his own and kissed it: "I love you," he murmured as they were nudging the tips of each other´s noses tenderly, befuddled by their lust and the scent of intimacy around them.

Draco smiled, leaning in for another kiss: "Love you, too," he replied. Harry eyed him heavy-lidded, pulling him on top once more while allowing his legs to fall open simultaneously. They both moaned as their groins pressed against each other´s and their hearts fluttered in their throats.

"Draco," Harry whispered while he looked into his lover´s deep grey eyes, "I want you to take me."

Draco swallowed. His stomach did a nervous somersault, as the idea was as scary as it was arousing. "I don´t want to hurt you," he finally managed to say.

"You won´t," Harry smiled. "I trust you."

Draco closed his eyes, not wanting to go where the small voice in the back of his mind was leading him by reminding him that he had once trusted his father as well; he opened his eyes again and looked at Harry instead, and his boyfriend´s gaze told him that he meant what he had said.

Harry regarded him so lovingly, longingly, full of trust and affection, that Draco was able to block everything else out. This was different, no one was going to be hurt, no one was going to be violated.

They did this because they wanted it, both of them.

There was nothing more important than Harry´s and his own desire, the warm feeling in his belly and how good it felt to lie between Harry´s legs, to share these intimate moments with him.

"Okay," he whispered, if a little timidly. "I... I need to prepare you first..."

-

Harry had the decency to look a little guilty as he stretched and reached out for the nightstand´s drawer; he took something out of it and showed it to his boyfriend.

It was a small jar of lube.

"I...," Harry flushed as Draco raised one eyebrow quizzically. "I sometimes used it for... you know... for myself. Just... because it feels better..."

Draco couldn´t but laugh: "It´s okay, Harry... it´s not that unusual," he then said. "And... it´s good. So you know what I´m going to do, right?"

Harry nodded, his face deeply red.

With a sense of relief, they resumed their kissing and caressing until both of them were positively panting once more. They opened the jar and Draco spread some lube on his fingers, then Harry impatiently guided Draco´s hand between his thighs.

He nearly flinched when the blond touched his opening for the first time, as did Draco; before the summer, he had fantasized about moments like these, but it actually felt even better than he had thought.

And of course, the formerly faceless person of his reveries had gotten a face, the sweetest face in fact he could imagine, with those impossible green eyes. If only he didn´t hurt him... Draco frowned, hesitating again, but when Harry caught his mouth in another kiss, he let himself be carried away on the stream of new sensations.

He slowed down for a moment when his boyfriend gasped, but Harry, impatient, shoved forward minutely: "You´re not hurting me," he breathed against Draco´s mouth, and suddenly it was easy. He was surprised by how soft the flesh of Harry´s channel was, and automatically began to stroke it with the tip of his digit; soon, Harry was mewling again, and it didn´t take long until his lover added a second finger and a third.

At one point, Harry shudderingly opened his legs wider, invitingly: "Baby, please..." he all but sobbed, "now..."

Draco swallowed and spread the rest of the lube on his meanwhile throbbing erection before positioning himself at Harry´s entrance. He couldn´t think straight anymore, this was so real and yet so surreal, so tender and by all means right. With a deep, shaky breath, he pushed forward, past the tight ring of muscles.

Harry shuddered once more, gasping, and Draco immediately froze, afraid he might have hurt his lover.

"No, don´t stop," Harry breathed, "I´m okay..."

Draco tightened his grip on Harry´s hip and slowly but steadily pushed further in. He moaned because it felt so brilliant: the tight heat that was engulfing him, the soft yet firm grip of Harry´s flesh, the friction on his member. If he hadn´t gone so slowly, he´d probably have come at once.

Harry´s mouth was open, his eyelids were fluttering and he gave an occasional hiss, but whenever Draco made to stop, he began writhing. The blond lost all sense of time; he had no idea how many minutes had gone by when he finally was fully sheathed, but it didn´t matter. Harry looked adorable, his cheeks flushed and his eyelids heavy.

Draco leaned forward: "Are you okay?" he whispered, refusing to think of the pain he had been in, but worrying about Harry nevertheless. The dark-haired boy nodded: "This is awesome," he whispered. "You can move now..."

Harry gasped and moaned as Draco slowly began to pull back; the sensation of being filled by his lover´s flesh was overwhelming. It burned, but it also felt good, and the sheer idea of what they were doing gave him the thrills.

Draco groaned as he began to thrust; this was amazing, and he could see that Harry was enjoying it as well, could feel that the other´s eagerness was honest. He only dared to move shallowly at first, but at one point Harry pulled his knees up, allowing Draco even more access, wanting to be touched as deeply as possible, edging his lover on until the blond was pulling out almost completely with each stroke.

Harry was breathing heavily and whimpered for more with each stroke over his prostate.

Their moans and sobs reverberated around them, one echoing the other, and if Harry had been coherent he probably would have been glad that Sirius had put Silencing Charms on his bed as well when Harry had asked him to, because there was no way they could have restrained themselves.

Sweat was beading on their bodies, glistening in the light of the fire, and Draco´s movements became more erratic when they were both close to coming. Harry reached down to grab his neglected member when he felt he couldn´t hold back any longer, and climaxed harder than ever before after only a few pulls.

The fierce clenching of his inner walls around Draco had him coming violently as well, and the feeling of his pulsating flesh releasing warm spray deep inside effectively triggered Harry´s aftershocks.

-

Bonelessly, Draco sagged on top of his love, their hearts beating rapidly and their sweat mingling while they were riding out their highs, sometimes trembling from yet another echo of an aftershock .

Harry wrapped his arms around his lover; his legs hurt from the strained position, but he wanted to keep the blond close nevertheless, wished they could stay like this forever. Draco was still inside him, and despite the slight soreness that made itself known now and the seed that was slowly dripping out of Harry it felt great, an achievement of sorts.

When they finally broke apart, Draco looked at Harry almost timidly: "Are you okay?" he asked once more.

Harry stroked the other´s cheek, losing himself in his eyes: "More than okay," he whispered, "it was amazing. _You_ were amazing!"

Draco blushed furiously, reassured by Harry´s very evident and almost lazy satisfaction: "You, too," he murmured very softly. "Thanks for... you know."

"Let´s not waste time talking," Harry grinned, pulling the blond close until their noses touched. "I love you so much," he breathed, his lips seeking Draco´s again. "Let´s do that again sometime."

Chuckling, they kissed.

-

When they eventually got up to get a shower, the blond was distraught to discover that Harry had bled a little.

"It´s normal," Harry tried to calm him, "don´t worry. You really didn´t hurt me, only a little in the beginning, but that´s normal as well, isn´t it?"

"Yeah, I guess..." Draco, appeased by the notion that the dark-haired boy even wanted a repetition, let himself be led into the bathroom.

Harry was walking a little wide-legged, as he was indeed feeling sore, and thoroughly stretched at that, but it was nothing more than had to be expected.

-

Later, when they were lying in bed, Harry sleepily pondered the whole matter again; from how it had felt at the beginning he could imagine how it must hurt if someone did not care wether they were hurting you.

His grip around Draco tightened, and he only hoped that one day, the blond would maybe be willing to try it again and see how wonderful bottoming could be.

His boyfriend was almost asleep already, severely worn out as he was.

Harry nestled deeper into the blankets, trying not to think of the fact that this was yet another thing he would have to try and hide from Professor Snape during their future Occlumency lessons.

**--**

**To Be Continued**

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	23. Concern

Hello dearies, here´s the new chapter! As always, many thanks for reading and reviewing!

Just to remind you once more: Draco is also referred to as Finn at times, Malcolm as Liam, so no one gets confused.

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 23: Concern  
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Harry was grey in the face when he came back from the first lesson. He had used an excuse, as his fellow DA members had kept asking him for the date of their first meeting after Christmas, but Dumbledore had made it very clear that Occlumency came before anything else, and that Snape would be expecting him.

Harry certainly had not assumed that the lesson would be pleasant, but it had been quite different to his expectations nevertheless. He had not been able to fight Snape´s Legilimency, and had ended on his knees more often than he´d have cared for. They had finally ended it after Harry had hit his head on the edge of Snape´s desk hard enough to pass out for a moment.

Draco could see that his boyfriend ached all over when he returned to the common room, and the sickly colour of his skin only emphasized that. Harry sat down with Hermione and Ron for a moment and talked to them very quietly, but apparently was in no condition to do his homework. Finn watched him surreptitiously, unable to stave off the mixture of worry and jealousy, and wished to be able to comfort him. Harry soon got up and went upstairs, accompanied by Ron.

When the twins entered the dormitory some time later, Harry was sitting on his bed, shaking all over.

Finn immediately went to his side: "What happened?" he asked.

Ron regarded Finn with a suffering expression, then sighed: "He collapsed."

Harry looked as though he was fighting not to vomit: "It´s just like the night before Christmas," he ground out. "I heard him laugh, and I was experiencing his joy... Voldemort´s... he´s really happy, something´s happened... something´s he´s been waiting for..."

Draco could feel himself beginning to shake as well. Whatever it was, it couldn´t be good.

Dazedly, he allowed Malcolm to help him up and to his bed, while Ron convinced Harry to lie down.

-

Draco stared into the darkness long after Dean and Seamus had come in and gone to bed as well; if he closed his eyes, he would start remembering things, but if he stared into the darkness, he could pretend to make out certain shapes under the canopy of the bed if he tried hard enough: centaurs, unicorns, angels.

It would hopefully keep him occupied until he would be able to fall asleep. He flinched when the curtain of his bed moved at one point, as he hadn´t expected Harry to come over tonight, he had seemed too shaken.

Harry however wordlessly pulled the Invisibility Cloak off him and crawled into Draco´s arms. They wrapped themselves around each other in the mutual attempt to simultaneously reassure the other and seek comfort from him, and only calmed down once they were completely entwined, heartbeat to heartbeat.

Harry sighed in silent relief, his breath warm and moist on Draco´s skin: "I´m so glad you´re here," he whispered.

"I´m sorry I couldn´t accompany you to Occlumency," Draco murmured unhappily. "You looked terrible when you came back."

Harry pressed his cheek against Draco´s chest and told him about the lesson: "Snape says Voldemort might try to get into my mind, just like he possessed the snake," he concluded tiredly. "I can´t let that happen, Draco."

He looked up again, staring at the other boy in the darkness: "He might see you. I can´t allow him to know about us."

Fear crept through Draco´s veins once more: "I know," he whispered. Both of them were aware that this was what Harry had been afraid of ever since the attack of Mr Weasley.

"Harry... do you think we... should be more careful?" Draco´s voice nearly gave out at the last words. What he had meant to ask was wether they should stop spending time together, but he couldn´t bring himself to voice it.

"No," Harry said fiercely, knowing full well what Draco had meant, "no! Voldemort´s ruined enough for me already, I won´t let him separate us!"

They fell silent, reinforcing their embraces instead of further words, but both of them had a heavy heart.

Harry knew that his words had been utterly selfish; it was Draco who´d be in danger, after all. Yet he couldn´t bear the thought of being forced to return to zero; it wouldn´t be enough to have Finn around him every day. It were the nights he was living off.

He buried his nose deeper into Draco´s skin, slowly inhaling his love´s scent, and let the comforting feeling of belonging wash over him.

-

Long after midnight, Severus Snape was still sitting at the desk in his office.

The first Occlumency lesson had been... interesting, to begin with. He had caught uncontrolled glimpses of Potter´s memory, such as his aunt´s dog chasing him, or the Dementors: unhappy, angry memories, that was for sure.

As much as Snape loathed to think about it did Potter´s impetuous fury, which Snape had seen blazing in his eyes countless times already, remind him of Lily. Lily shouting at him, her sweet face contorted with anger... he shook the image off, subconsciously scowling.

It still hurt, and it had therefore been with utter contempt that he had agreed to teach her son.

He had told himself not to let his resentment flare up so easily, had in fact spent the better of ten minutes forcing himself to calmly breathe through his nose and keep his cool mask right before Potter had arrived, but a few minutes alone with the boy were enough to tear his defences down.

It wasn´t his attitude towards the Potions Professor alone, it was his sheer being: he was too much like Lily, but every time Snape tried to concentrate on catching the essence of what had been her, in a vain attempt to numb the pain about her loss which was still as raw and terrible as though it had been on the day before, Potter did something, or _say_ something, which could have been uttered by the imbecile that had been his father.

It was frustating, to say the least, and Snape for his part had had it with the boy.

He knew he had to forget his own qualms however, as the Occlumency lessons were serving _for the greater good_, as he was sure Dumbledore would have said. Therefore, he had tried to strictly concentrate on the lesson, surprised by how much past mysery the Golden Boy was actually harbouring.

Yet there had been something else, a whiff of quite the opposite: something, some_one_, who was presently occupying a rather large part of the boy´s mind.

Potter had managed to yank away before he could delve deeper, however, so he did not have a face to match. He smirked; it did not matter. He would find out one way or the other.

-

The next morning started off dull and grey; despite their worries Harry and Draco had slept soundly and groaned annoyedly when the alarm went off far too early. Both of them were still tired when they trudged down to the Great Hall with the other Gryffindors, but were pulled out of their drowsy state as soon as Hermione had received her copy of the _Daily_ _Prophet_.

She yelped, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity towards her without even noticing: there had been a mass breakout of Azkaban.

Harry´s mind was reeling: this was the explanation for Voldemort´s happiness, nine of his most devoted followers being on the run.

Feeling shaky, he began to read the article.

His initial trepidation soon turned into anger, however: "I don´t believe it," he hissed, balling his hands into fists. According to the article, the Minister was blaming Sirius for the incident, claiming that he as the first person to ever manage to escape from the fortress, must have helped the group.

Harry was still shaking with helpless fury; he felt the urge to run upstairs and find the two-way mirror Sirius had given him when they had left Grimmauld Place: "This way you can talk to me whenever you like and without being watched," he had said, a sad smile on his face. Harry was already missing him, and he had not liked the thought of leaving his godfather alone in his dark old house, especially after the holidays.

He wanted to talk to Sirius now, let himself be reassured by the older wizard.

He was halfway on his feet already when Ron laid a hand on Harry´s arm, looking at him warningly, as though he had read Harry´s mind: "Don´t do something rash," he said. "Umbridge is watching already."

Harry allowed himself to be pulled back down, but he couldn´t stop himself from looking over at the High Inquisitor. She had put on a stony face that morning, apparently not taking in the news too well; her eyes met Harry´s however, as though she had sensed his gaze, and without thinking, he smirked at her.

He didn´t care wether she´d get back at him for that at one point, the opportunity was simply too good to miss. And it did have the effect he had been aiming for: her cheeks flushed, and her expression turned to anger.

Smirking once more, Harry turned back to his table, inexplicably feeling better due to this cheap victory, and suddenly being ravenous as well.

He reached out for a piece of toast and found someone handing him the plate: it was Finn, who in turn had been watching Harry. He raised one eyebrow and smirked as well, his eyes telling him that he had seen the small but deliberate act of defiance, and that he approved of it.

It didn´t mean that he wasn´t terrified by the news, but he could see that Harry´s will to give them a run for their money was imperturbable, and it calmed him immensely. He would stick to his promise to help, Draco thought, no matter what.

-

That evening, the atmosphere in the Gryffindor Common Room was unusually subdued. Neville had gone to bed right after classes, and had skipped dinner; one of the escaped Death Eaters was Bellatrix Lestrange after all, the very woman who had tortured his parents into insanity.

Back in Grimmauld Place, Harry had told Draco about the Longbottoms; he hadn´t been able to shake the images of St Mungo´s Closed Ward off, and needed to talk about it.

Draco couldn´t but feel bad for Neville either, but additionally, he felt ashamed of course. Or rather, once again, he mused darkly, drooping his head at the awareness of what a jerk he had been. Neville had been on the receiving end of his taunting from the very first day; he had not known about his parents, and had not cared.

He was sitting with Malcolm while everyone was doing their homework or talking quietly, but could not concentrate. After an hour of fiddling around with his quill, he got up: "Excuse me," he murmured. "I´m going upstairs."

Malcolm nodded, eyeing him attentively: "You all right?" he asked in an undertone.

Draco nodded: "Just tired," he murmured and left, hoping that his "twin" wouldn´t follow him. Malcolm suspected that Draco was quite shaken by the news about the Azkaban breakout, thus he didn´t stop him. He would look in on him later.

-

Slowly, Draco climbed the stairs, unsure wether he was entitled to do this, but when he quietly opened the door to the dorm, he could hear someone crying right away. Draco´s stomach clenched; he could imagine what the other boy was going through, and he wanted to show him that he was not alone, just like someone had done for him.

Neville curled up on his side and tried to muffle his sobs when he heard that someone was entering; he had drawn his bed hangings close, but they didn´t shut out sounds, after all.

To his surprise, the soft steps he could hear seemed to stop right next to him, and a moment later, a hesitant voice called his name: "Neville? It´s me, Finn."

Neville had been determined to ignore anyone who might try and talk to him, yet the concern he heard in Finn´s voice was overwhelming.

"´m in here," he hiccuped, without turning; a moment later, the mattress shook ever so slightly, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder, making his breath hitch. He was embarrassed and ashamed to break down like that.

"It´s okay," Finn however said tentatively, "it´s okay to cry." And his voice was so soft and understanding that Neville freshly dissolved into tears; his whole body shook, but the hand stayed, a comforting and reassuring presence in the otherwise dark night.

.

Harry was also brooding rather than doing his homework; even Hermione did not insist that he had to try and keep up for once, but looked downtrodden herself. After a while, she impatiently shoved her quill aside, got up and began pacing between their seats and the nearest window, wordlessly.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look: if their friend was interrupting her homework, she was seriously distressed.

"Hermione, " Ron began, searching for words to cheer her up or calm her down or, preferably, both, yet when he started to speak, she halted in front of the window and stared outside, her shoulders stiffening.

Before Ron could end his sentence, she suddenly turned around and stared at them with a new spark in her eyes: "Here´s something to brighten things up," she said in an undertone, but with an unmistakably cheer in her voice. "Hagrid´s back!"

-

Twenty minutes later, Hermione, Ron and Harry were trudging through the snow towards Hagrid´s hut.

Harry thought of the last time he had done this, and with whom, and felt his heart beat faster.

When he had gone up to the dormitory in order to get his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder´s Map, he had seen Finn sitting with Neville, who had still been sobbing hadn´t said a word, only looked at Finn with longing in his eyes, and the other boy had acknowledged it with a tiny smile.

Harry told himself that Draco was only helping Neville, yet despite this better knowledge he felt a pang of jealousy and was therefore glad to have his friends to distract him.

Hagrid seemed reluctant to let them in at first, the reason of which being obvious the minute he opened the door: his face looked maimed, having bloody cuts and bruises all over it. He didn´t want to tell them what had happened, and muttered something like _nosy_ and _interfering _under his breath while he made tea, but in the end admitted that they had been guessing correctly and he´d been away looking for giants, together with Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons.

Harry had to remind himself that it had been Dumbledore who had sent Hagrid on this mission, and that he had been very aware of the risks, yet what the half-giant told them now sounded like something from a nightmare rather than a true story, and Harry realized once more how devoted Hagrid was to their Headmaster.

They were vividly discussing the matter when someone unexpectedly knocked on the door. After a moment of petrified horror, Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly gathered under the Invisibility Cloak while Hagrid hid their mugs.

Hogwarts´ High Inquisitor was standing outside, eyeing Hagrid with a look she might otherwise have spared for something unpleasant underneath her shoe.

She then introduced herself, confusing poor Hagrid, who had had no way to have heard of her before, and slowly stepped further into the cabin, all the while scanning the room as though expecting to find someone else: "I heard someone talking," she said all of sudden, clearly hoping to catch the Gamekeeper by surprise.

"That´s me, always talkin´ ter Fang, ya see," Hagrid said.

Umbridge raised her eyebrow at that: "There were several sets of footprints in the snow," she pointed out.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were in cold sweat while the toadlike woman continued her interrogation. Hagrid, though clearly baffled, managed to dodge most of her questions somehow, yet it must be clear that something was off; not the best way to start, Harry thought gloomily, feeling bad for getting his friend into trouble.

When they finally got back to the castle, it was with a dull feeling instead of the initial excitement about Hagrid´s return; after Umbridge had left, dropping a line about how the Ministry was planning on getting rid of "unsatisfactory teachers", as she put it.

The threat behind those words was so obvious that Hermione pleaded with Hagrid to keep his lessons as plain as possible when he said he had saved something "very special" for that year, but he wouldn´t listen to her.

He didn´t seem to have realized the extent of Umbridge´s influence yet, which only added to the list of worries they were currently nursing.

-

It was dark and silent in the dormitory when they came in.

With a sigh of relief, Harry crawled into his bed. He very nearly dozed off immediately, but then wrapped himself into his Invisibility Cloak once more and snuck over to Draco´s bed.

His boyfriend shifted a little and held up the blankets for Harry to slip under when he joined him.

Shivering, Harry snuggled against the warm body, and his mouth found Draco´s for a tender kiss: "Hey you," he whispered.

Draco rubbed the tip of his nose against his, which was cold: "Where´ve you been?" he murmured.

Harry told him about the visit at Hagrid´s; when he came to the part about Umbridge, he felt Draco´s grip around himself tighten. And he knew it wasn´t just because of her, but because of everything that day had brought.

"How´s Neville?" he asked eventually, still too agitated to sleep.

Draco sounded a little sleepy already: "Took a long time to calm down," he murmured, slowly running his fingers through Harry´s hair. "He´s angry, and feeling helpless... does that ring a bell?"

Harry gave a somewhat shaky laugh.

"Maybe he´ll feel better once we continue with the DA," he replied softly.

"I hope so... he needs something to look forward to."

Harry, feeling a sudden rush of affection, reached up and caressed Draco´s cheek: "I´m so glad to have you," he whispered.

He could feel Draco´s smile against his palm: "And I´m glad to have you," he whispered, pressing a kiss into Harry´s hand.

"We´ll all get through this," Harry muttered softly. "Somehow."

But he was especially grateful that he did not have to do it alone. Contrary to his initial apprehension had Draco not shied back from after they had had sex, but their bond rather seemed to get stronger every day.

He listened to Draco´s quiet breathing as the blond boy finally fell asleep, and his thoughts returned to Sirius once more, wishing that he could have someone to be there for him as well.

As long as he was trapped in the old house that was hardly possible, though; once again, Harry pondered the circumstances life put them all in until his thoughts began to stray and he finally succumbed to his tiredness.

Minutes later, he was fast asleep.**  
**

**--**

**To Be Continued**

**--**


	24. Doing and Not Doing

_Hi_, erm (hides behind Dumbledore)...

It´s an awfully long time since my last update, and I can only say how terribly sorry I am.

There have been a number of reasons why I did not manage to update; first of all, my new job is very demanding, and since I started it, I hardly found time to write.

Secondly, I did not exactly have the best of luck this year so far, which resulted in bad health and a car accident among other things

(if you look at my profile page, you´ll also find a reason why I couldn´t access this website for a few months. PM me if you had the same problem, by the way).

Anyway, I hope you´ll enjoy the new chapter and forgive me my long absence. Thank you all for your patience!

**-o-  
**

**Chapter 24: Doing and Not Doing  
**

**-o-O-o-**

o

Harry´s accomplishments in Occlumency did not improve; he ended up hobbling back to Gryffindor with hurting knees each time, feeling so frustrated that he felt the urge to shout. Snape used every opportunity to insult him, which did not exactly help to improve Harry´s concentration. The thought of Snape finding out about him and Draco spurred him on, however; he had so far managed to close his mind off enough to keep Snape out of his most private thoughts, yet the other wizard´s frequent intrusions had him collapse nearly every time, and he had the feeling that it was merely luck which had helped him so far.

Instead of making him feel safe, Occlumency had intensified the fear of dreaming Harry had developed. He was supposed to empty his mind of any emotions every night, as Snape kept reminding him, yet Harry did not know how. Too many thoughts were swirling in his head, and although Draco´s warm presence reassured him, he was often startled out of a state of comfortable drowsiness by a multitude of worries, the most distressing one being that someone might find out about Draco.

Snape was now sure that there was something Harry intended to keep from him with all his might, something he buried as deeply as possible while preparing for the Occlumency lessons. The potions master held his impatience at bay, however, knowing that the way Potter was proceeding, it was only a matter of time until the secret would be out.

o

For all the frustration Occlumency was bringing him, Harry sought comfort in the DA lessons. The group was making considerable progress, though Fred and George kept grinning at Harry whenever he talked to Finn. He pretended to ignore it as best as he could, which proved difficult at times. Hermione, who had noticed the twins´ teasing, tried to encourage Harry: "If you don´t pay attention to them, they´ll probably get bored soon."

Harry was not so sure about that, but was grateful for her support even though he sometimes wished to be someone who was not constantly being watched by different people for various reasons.

He did his best not to treat Finn differently from the others, which also proved difficult. For Harry, it meanwhile seemed that he could see Draco underneath the disguise, as though he was merely wearing a mask and costume. There were certain movements, certain inflections in his voice which were characteristic for his boyfriend, and every time Harry thought he saw something so unmistakably _Draco_ in Finn, he could not help himself but stop and watch him, his heart suddenly beating faster. Apart from that, he had to be careful not to react too strongly to anything Finn might do or say. Finn did well in the DA lessons, possessing both poise and a certain natural grace, all fear and worries forgotten while they were training. It even made him reckless sometimes, and he often won the respective duel, inwardly making Harry glow with pride.

Once, Finn was not fast enough to block Dean Thomas´ spell, which sent him flying into the wall behind him. His back connected with an audible thud, effectively stopping all other action in the room, before he slid to the floor. Unthinkingly, Harry moved forward, fear coursing through him like wildfire. He, Dean Thomas and Liam reached Finn at the same time, and for a moment, all three of them suspected that he was unconscious. Before either of them could say or do something however, Finn opened his eyes: "Checkmate," he croaked, forcing a lopsided grin onto his face. Harry´s knees all of a sudden felt like jelly, and he could have wept.

"Are you all right?", Liam asked quietly, helping his twin to right himself. Finn nodded, grimacing a little: "Yeah... just give me a minute..."

"I´m sorry, mate," Dean now said. "I didn´t mean to overdo it like that..."

"It´s okay..." Finn cautiously straightened his back, taking a deep breath to control the pain. His gaze met Harry´s, and for a moment, they were alone in the room. Neither of them knew that they were both white as a sheet, and the others were too agitated to notice. Malcolm however observed their silent exchange; it confirmed what he had already suspected, and he subdued a smile.

Slightly shaky, Harry then got up and urged the others, who had assembled around Finn, to continue practicing. Feeling oddly detached from the scene, he watched Dean and Liam help Finn to his feet, who took a few tentative steps and decided to go back to practicing as well.

o

Remus found Sirius in the drawing room, pacing. He seemed to do little else lately, hating to be confined to the house at Grimmauld Place while he would have loved nothing more but go and find Peter Pettigrew, or find another, less depressing home for his Godson and himself. Or go flying... Sirius had been as avid a flyer as James, it had been a gift.

A life destroyed, Remus thought as he studied his old friend´s face; Sirius had always been attractively handsome, someone who had easily turned heads. It had not been his looks alone, rather an underlying carelessness, a nonchalance with which he had carried himself. As though life was a game and he was a player who had not only understood the rules but seen through them: someone who could not be fooled.

Or that was what he had wanted people to think. Remus, as well as the other two Marauders, had been perfectly aware that the seemingly effortless ease Sirius conveyed had been nothing less than a means of defence.

He had not talked about his home very often, but it seemed clear that he had not been happy there. In contrast to his brother Regulus, Sirius was the black sheep in the family, and the rift which that had created between him and his parents had been irreconcilable. He tried to hide the pain, pain which not only derived from the feeling of not belonging, but also from the safe knowledge that his family was scorning him just as he was scorning them. And still he had to return to the residence at Grimmauld Place during holidays, because no matter how wholeheartedly the Potters invited him to stay with them, an invitation he gratefully accepted whenever possible, did he have no other place to call something akin to home outside Hogwarts.

He only survived those times at his parents´ place because of his apparent indifference; it helped him cope with the obvious disappointment and resentment he experienced there. And when he returned to Hogwarts or went to James Potter´s, he appeared to be the same old Sirius, fun-loving, slightly arrogant, at ease with life. Yet his friends could see that his face was somewhat drawn, that his skin was paler than usual, and that he seemed a little on the thin side every time.

In comparison to how Azkaban had left its mark on Sirius, however, that had been nothing, Remus thought now. Even though Sirius looked a lot better than he had right after his escape, one could still see the edges of suffering in his face; he did not only seem prematurely aged, just like Remus himself, but irreversibly haggard. Which admittedly was an improvement to cadaverous, but still... the effort it had taken to withstand the Dementors and madness were clearly evident. It must have been a daily struggle, Remus thought, certain that most people would have given up resistance at one point. Not Sirius, though. Sirius had never been one to surrender, and that was why he was pacing up and down like a tiger now, refusing to accept the enforced inactiveness.

"He is so vulnerable," Sirius said now, as though they had been in the middle of a conversation. Which in one way or other was true, since they had discussed the topic several times already. Sirius´ worry about Harry had increased the more time he had spent mulling things over; the only solace he had was Dumbledore. As long as Dumbledore was with Harry, he had the best protection possible. At least that was what Sirius told himself over and over, during long nights in which he did not find any sleep, and while he was pacing his days away, back and forth in an endless repetition.

Like waves on the shore, Remus had said to him, and muttered something about a poet who had written about it. The undertone of this being that said poet would probably not have written that poem if he had seen Sirius pacing, yet Remus would never have said that. He was too understanding, too aware of Sirius´ reasons, too good a friend.

"He is protected," Remus said now, patiently, "Dumbledore-"

"-is being attacked left, right and centre at the moment," Sirius interrupted him. "_The Daily Prophet_ is one step away from outrightly calling him a senile old dimwit, and you know how people are reacting to that. They believe it if they hear it often enough!"

Remus sighed, nodding: "Still. Harry is safer in Hogwarts than anywhere else at the moment."

"Right, with Snivellus giving him Occlumency lessons." Sirius´ voice was acidly.

Remus folded his arms in front of his chest: "I am not the one whose head you want to bite off," he said softly after a beat of tense silence.

Snorting, Sirius turned to the nearest wall; he was as wound up as a spring, so it did not come as a surprise when, with a sudden movement, he hit the wall with both fists.

The dull thuds seemed to resound through the room, whereas Sirius, after remaining tense and still for a moment, visibly deflated. The fight seemed to leave him, his shoulders dropped, and he hung his head while exhaling deeply.

Then, slowly, he turned back to his friend: "Forgive me," he said so softly that his voice sounded hoarse. "I shouldn´t take it out on you, of all people."

"No harm done." Remus offered him a small smile: "So long as you find a way to vent it."

Well, exactly that was the problem, wasn´t it?

o

Contrary to Sirius´ opinion, Harry was less vulnerable than he would have thought, because there was not only Dumbledore in Hogwarts who was concerned about him, but also his friends. In this case, Hermione. She was determined to see to it that all the libel and slander about Harry stopped, and that the public once and for all learned about Harry´s latest encounter with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

So she finally put it to good use that she had found out and captured the beetle which really was the unregistered Animagus Rita Skeeter, by forcing her to interview Harry once again, but this time the interview was subjected to certain conditions, such as not to modify the facts Harry gave, otherwise Hermione would report Skeeter to the authorities. The reporter agreed- seethingly so, since she did not have another choice if she did not want to end up in Azkaban, but the interview was conducted and going to be printed in _The Quibbler_, Luna´s father´s newspaper.

Harry did not exactly know what to feel about it; he had given the names of those Death Eaters he had recognized in the graveyard, which included Lucius Malfoy. When he had told Draco about it, hesitantly, the other boy had been silent for quite a long time, then he had taken a deep breath: "Good," he had said. "One more step towards getting him arrested."

He had sounded surprisingly composed, yet when Harry turned to him, he could see that Draco´s eyes were moist. Harry gingerly reached up and laid his hand on his love´s cheek: "Yes," he replied softly. "It is."

o

On the day the interview came out, Harry not only received a copy of _The Quibbler_, but also a number of letters; some of them were approving, others abused Harry rather rudely.

Concerning Umbridge, it earned Harry another round of detentions, the prohibition to go to Hogsmeade, since that was where he had given the interview, and fifty points from Gryffindor. Furthermore, a new Educational Decree was released, forbidding the students the possession of _The Quibbler_. Which of course had exactly the reversed effect: now, everyone wanted to read the interview, and it was very hip to carry at least the respective page around, if bewitched so it could not be so easily recognized.

It was with great relief that Harry realized people were believing him; even the regular teachers found subtle ways to show him they approved, such as awarding Gryffindor points for rather simple things Harry did, or in Professor Trelawney´s case, having him survive her latest predictions for a change.

The interview generally was so well-received that Luna´s father had to reprint, something which apparently had not happened to him before.

o

Hermione could not stop herself from looking like the cat who had got the mouse, and Harry would have joined her, had his dreams not put a damper on his otherwise good spirits. He once dreamed of being Voldemort so vividly again that the memory kind of followed him around; unfortunately, it was also still very present during Harry´s next Occlumency lesson a few weeks later.

Snape immediately latched onto the image he had seen, of a Death Eater named Rookwood, who had given Voldemort information in Harry´s dream. Harry however refused to tell Snape anything about it, and maybe it was his own anger resulting from the subsequent argument with the potions master that did it, but when during the following attempt of Legilimency Harry found himself confronted with Dementors, he used his wand to try and conjure up his Patronus. And suddenly, unaware that Snape had lost his wand, Harry saw something entirely different, memories which were not his own: memories which centered around a greasy-haired boy. Snape.

The incensed potions master seized his wand and ended it quite abruptly; to override his own emotional state, he immediately began the next attempt, and this time, Harry appeared to be in the Department of Mysteries again. Unthinkingly, he ran, and to his surprise, the door opened for him! He hurried through, only to discover more doors in the room behind it- yet before he could choose one, he was being pulled back into reality. He was lying on the floor once more, with Snape hovering over him like an oversized bat; not the sight one would necessarily want to wake up to.

Snape naturally was furious, accusing Harry of not working hard enough, but he was interrupted by loud screams somewhere outside of his office.

It turned out to be Professor Trelawney, who was shrieking in helpless indignation and disbelief, for apparently, the Hogwarts High Inquisitor had just sacked her and was about to throw her out.

Harry, who was still feeling nauseous from the Occlumency lesson, had followed Snape to the Entrance Hall on unsteady legs; he sought to support himself on the stone wall next to him while he watched Umbridge entering a staring contest with Professor McGonagall. The latter had, like all the other spectators, come out from the Great Hall; Sybill Trelawney´s dismissal had effectively interrupted dinner, so there was quite a crowd.

Professor McGonagall went to comfort the distraught Divination teacher, all the while glaring daggers at Umbridge, and assured Professor Trelawley that she did not have to leave her home of sixteen years just because she had been sacked.

Umbridge was about to counter that when an unexpected voice interfered: Dumbledore.

Harry gaped at him, hardly hearing what was being said: he had not seen the Headmaster in quite some time, and with all the commotion Umbridge was causing, it was rather surprising to hear the authority in his tone.

While Harry was still watching, Hermione, Ron, Dean Thomas, Neville, Ginny, Liam and Finn had joined him. He could feel Hermione´s and Finn´s worried glances in his direction, but did not react; he did not want anyone to notice in how bad a shape he was, least of all Snape, who was standing close by.

o

That night in bed, Harry told Draco all about the Occlumency lesson. The nausea had finally abated, but his body felt sore as though he was suffering from muscle ache. Draco gently kneaded Harry´s shoulders while he listened to how Snape had been overpowered, and how, for a first and short time, Harry had caught a few glimpses into the other´s mind instead of being the subject of invasion himself.

"He was really angry," he said tiredly, "for a moment I expected to see him foaming at the mouth."

Draco grinned at this image, but quickly sobered again: "At least he did not... you know, find out something about us."

Harry nodded: "Yeah," he murmured, "that´s the only positive thing I can see in it though. He hates me and I hate him, it _has_ to end badly, doesn´t it?"

Draco did not like the sound of that: "Not as long as Dumbledore has a say in it," he said determinedly.

Dumbledore, Harry thought, had not witnessed how merciless Snape was putting him through the so-called lessons. And again, he wondered why he had not in the least been expecting the Headmaster. Was he feeling neglected by Dumbledore himself, so that he was unknowingly accepting the change of regime at Hogwarts? Rubbish, he told himself, stop whining, Potter. Dumbledore is a busy man, after all.

But still he had to admit that he had wondered, after all the commotion the interview had caused, why he had not heard anything from the Headmaster at all. Harry had no idea whether Dumbledore approved or not- both was possible.

He did not tell Draco all this, however, but continued: "There is more," he said softly. "During the last try, I was in that corridor again. Only this time, the door opened for me. I ran through it, but behind it was merely another room with lots more doors. I tried to choose one, but Snape called me back right then."

Draco hesitated: "It probably won´t stop before you´ve seen what´s behind those." His voice was quiet.

"Probably," Harry acquiesced exhaustedly. "And to be honest: I don´t think Snape will be of much help. He´s only making things worse."

Seeing as to how screwed up the situation was, Draco did not know how to reply. He simply wrapped his arms around Harry instead, holding him tight. Sleepily, Harry sighed and snuggled against his boyfriend: "Let´s forget about it until tomorrow, okay?"

"´Kay," Draco kissed the other´s forehead and closed his eyes, struggling to forget.

o

**To Be Continued**

**o  
**

_Author´s note_: this is the poem Remus was referring to:

_Devotion_, by Robert Frost

o

The heart can think of no devotion

Greater than being shore to the ocean—

Holding the curve of one position,

Counting an endless repetition.


End file.
